A Shameful Conquest of Itself

‘May I take the liberty?’ used to be asked by polite old men, Doffing their caps as required to a stranger to whom they were offering assistance. ‘May I take the liberty?’ used to be asked in gentle introduction, When respect for others was the tool of choice to overcome shyness or resistance. ‘May I take the liberty?’ was never shouted, never barked, Always offered as a helping hand to those in distress, those in a mess. ‘May I take the liberty?’ scarce n’er received a refusal or rebuttal. And yet today, it’s something different, something worrying, something less. ‘May, I take The Liberty!’ has become the clarion shout of one Who became our leader by default, fought, and lost much support. ‘May, I take The Liberty!’ is now shouted from her bunker of resistance, It’s a statement, not a question now, just a signpost to a future coming to nought. ‘May, I take The Liberty!’ is the usp of one who remains in power but wants to leave, One who sits, because the others who stand and wait, just wait on history’s dusty shelf. ‘May, I take The Liberty!’ is this to be her final epitaph, her frantic footnote? This scuppered isle, this earth of misery, hath made a shameful conquest of itself. ©Keith Murphy