In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk

The Casting of the Parrot’s Vote


And this piece was written on election night, a second night of pause and waiting, with the chill moon again prominent and beautiful overhead.

We walked home after casting our votes, our act tiny power, our tiny power of action. We had done what we could, and put our very sceptical crosses against the name of a decent man attached to a party that had already lost its way before choosing a grossly inadequate leader.