Sunday, May 26, 2024
‘She’ is defined by what she is not allowed
We learnt to dance to the beat of our hearts, Feet stamping steady to the constant concord of living,
For most of us death comes slowly.
women of colour run with a million dreams on their backs


I want the last bullet to have already been fired...
black women run... with a million other dreams on their backs...
I celebrate the sound of a fallen giant rising to its feet
A poetic contribution to Epigram's Anti-MicroAgressions campaign
I wish I could catch me a cloud and sail back to my yesteryears
The history of humanity can be told in frames of people looking away