Becoming In-visible

injustice inhabits history
and is signposted 
backwards and forwards
in skewed time
emblazoned on your forehead and in your hand
politics is not a luxury 
that can be ignored
when it is a daily personal issue 
of life and death
when hearts fray
the resilience of new bodies
is worn down

every day and every action is political

with each fresh sunrise
the blanched experience of life
plays out on both sides of the tracks
where wonderland and wasteland 
meet and part 

while some souls live with their heads in the clouds
their neighbours
claw and scratch through each minute with the desperation of a drowning child

when it is morning 
in wonderland 
you may easily wash away the unsettling bad dreams
with fresh milk and honey,
and glide through to sundown 
when you soulfully breathe out the worries of your day on the cool porch
a passing thought
for the neighbour – the one who constantly falters
because halfway through breathing
their emotions ricochet 
between the impossible choices of
either screaming with rage 
or sobbing uncontrollably

each lurch into their new old days requires
fresh salve for seen and unseen
scars that are the patchwork history
of stumbled steps and missed heartbeats
that repeat 
same same
same same pain

same same

wonder-full life flows smoothly
yet oblivious and
of the weight 
lifted each day
a mere side-step away

the in-visibility of brave warriors
dressed in humanity
are whispers of mystery
to cloud-filled ears


if mirrored secrets were known
you would all
entwine limbs like children 
and hold each other with tender kindness
immediately forgetting that
you were ever fractured strangers

From the Between the Lines collection, now available here: