Those who would come to kill
Fear we have an invisible spark
Yet it’s our fear that keep us still
And so our light dies in the dark.
In Paris and Beirut and elsewhere
In the midst of all that is terrible
One with another starts to share
That lighting of a spark invisible
Once it’s seen the pursuers’ eyes melt
For they know they will see death’s mark
Conquered by hope and love heartfelt
Kindled by an invisible indivisible spark.
Some terms for addressing women and the pitfalls thereof:
• Madame? No I’m not the proprietor!
• Mistress? No I’m not one of those!
• Missy? Am I a spoil brat throwing a tantrum?
• Princess? Nice try but you’re no Prince
? I’m not ninety, single and living with my sister!
• Mrs? I’m not at home with the kids!
• Madamoiselle? I’m not French
and we didn’t meet in Paris
? Are you a taxi driver in a movie?
• Your ladyship? Your Lordship? Indeed Not!
So what do I call you again?