#BLM

There is an old house

Mummy calls it ‘the past’

There is a plaque above the door in

bronze and at last do

we step inside

Mummy and I.

We tread across sallow floorboards,

and I bask between old statues of men

wondering what kind of a name ‘Slave Trader’

is. Everything here is labelled.

‘They’re throwing everything out,’ Mummy says.

The people who own ‘the past’ think it’s not important,

they think monochrome is the new future

But even I know the world is not so black and white.

‘They can’t throw everything away!’ I exclaim.

For a moment, I forget. Now, we are no longer

human and we’re casting out the proof.

‘It’s alright,’ Mumm says and buys ‘the past’.

We maintain the house together –

I spend my days watching colourness images

on a little black box, images of people who are not so different,

people who deserve smiles I would so willing give holding signs

in the air, being shot by men and women who seem surprised their guns have fired.

‘Why did this happen Mummy?’ I ask one day when I can’t take it

anymore.

She does not answer.

She does not know.

I stand from the chair and I search for the answer in ‘the past’

so I can remember why we are human and that

we are the same at the heart of it all.

Hello, everyone. Shouting out support for Black Lives Matter.

Racism is senseless and wrong. We are all human and we all have the capacity to forgive each other and love each other equally, and we cannot forget the past. But we can mend old wounds and move on.

Stay safe.