The Summer of ‘24

This dislocated life was not of my making
Known only to the sentinels of those infinite dark spaces

Twisted in the womb
Breached at birth
Epigenetic sequencing
Cellular memories of 
Lives on earth

Abandoned in her rich fathers house
A tom boy left to fight
An ill fated marriage arranged to a poor man A bad family made carelessly over night
Impoverished by cruelty isolation and neglect Exiled from the sun’s warmth with a death threat To be met with hostile xenophobia failed diagnosis and cold nights herself and her family deeply traumatised A cycle set in motion well before their time

Brought back to the present by undulating soul sounds
A soothing backdrop to angry mobs and marching crowds
Not unfamiliar to me and my generation
And for our elders (and the deceased) all too reminiscent
The terror the violence a ceaseless premonition Police on colour not this time
This time they stood observing the far right

Emboldened by genocides Harboured racial hatred
Legitimised all too crudely Live streamed in broad daylight Turning death threats into brown fires
And the state looked on
Why should it enquire

Wait you speak of death and brown fires Whose are we talking about Yours, theirs or mine?

In some ways we’ve already died
As if there isn’t enough going on in my brown mind