A Poem
By Hannah Williams
sometimes, hands become colonised,
adept in taking things that are yours.
segregate the seconds quickly
when they ask to purchase time.
maybe borders, maybe water
maybe speech, maybe song.
adept in taking things that are yours.
segregate the seconds quickly
when they ask to purchase time.
maybe borders, maybe water
maybe speech, maybe song.
memories and melodies
that our country is a bird.
minding its business
she rests in her nest,
of scattered twigs and leaves.
holes poked in her abode
with hands holding her morning melody.
that our country is a bird.
minding its business
she rests in her nest,
of scattered twigs and leaves.
holes poked in her abode
with hands holding her morning melody.
when power is subdued
and the dawn fulfils
its promises,
casting its shadows
on orphaned offspring
remind yourself
that those hands will wilt
loosening
and weakening their grip.
and the dawn fulfils
its promises,
casting its shadows
on orphaned offspring
remind yourself
that those hands will wilt
loosening
and weakening their grip.