‘we are the daughters
of the witches
you did not burn’
the sons of slaves stolen
and traded like cattle
on cotton ships across the atlantic
we are the illegitimate children
of colonial bastards and the women
who were stolen from their homes and lived
we are the grandchildren
of the potato farmers
who did not starve.
we are descendants of jews
who were not killed
we are the children
of first people everywhere
who lived sideways and quiet
in a world over run with noise
our grandmother was the girl
running naked and burned
from the bombs
falling on her home
we are children of hutu and tutsi
we are the 10 000 of tieneman square
the trees that were felled
the elephant on whose dead bodies
our towns were built
we are the people our mountains still speak.
we are the songs
that were sung
in hope and sadness.
we are the babies stillborn
because the world was not ready,
we have come with claw
and beak and feet
to listen in the language of the world
we have come to say
enough is enough.
let us be what is needed.
we are the ones we have been waiting for.
we come in peace.
fresh poetry 