Blue tit in my garden

Another sad day and trying to catch my breath....

I have little energy and are lost of words...

So today a poem by Yahia Lababidi 

During a Genocide 
You will find that during a genocide
most words lose their meaning
Some sound empty & others strange
Apart from unceasing prayer,
eloquence takes the form
of tears or kindness and solidarity
Even a quiet moan or sighing
is preferable to false words or worse:
a loud and wounding Silence…

#CeasefireNow #NotATarget