Since 2020, the world has changed. Fear has settled into our streets, into our hearts. These poems were born from that heavy silence — to remind us what remains when everything trembles: love, compassion, and the quiet certainty that we are all made of the same breath.
We Are Made of the Same Breath
Since the world began to tremble,
since doors closed
and fear moved into our streets —
I searched for what remains.
What remains is you.
What remains is me.
A hand reached out in the dark
that asks not your name,
nor your language,
nor the colour of your sky.
We are made of the same breath.
The same first cry.
The same last prayer.
Love has never had a border.
It is we who drew them.
It is we who can erase them.
The Child Does Not Choose
The child weeping in Gaza
and the child weeping in Paris
cry in the same language —
the one no one needs to learn.
We were born to keep each other warm.
To share bread.
To look at the stars together
and ask the same question:
Will tomorrow be gentle?
It will.
If we decide it will.
What Fear Cannot Take
It can close airports,
stop trains,
silence the public squares.
But it cannot enter
a mother’s gaze upon her child.
It cannot erase
a stranger’s smile in the storm.
It cannot extinguish
the quiet fire that burns in you —
that still, calm certainty
that love is older than fear.
And that it will outlast it.