The Rt. Hon by Jo Hanks

I am not a silent poet

I Sit on a Train and I Cry

Pearl drops.
Their faces I imagine
Lost,
Fearful.
It sickens and it slashes me

As he slashed her.

The love.
Captured snapshots I imagine
Soft touches on the cheek
Bold conversations

Twisted and choked
Bled out
In the space of hours.

Normal hours;
Working hours

I cry for the woman
Courageous campaigning
Juxtaposed
Alongside the washing up.

I cry for all of us.
For the venomous rage
Divisive politics creates.

Take back control.
It would be suicide to leave.

I am lost in this society
Of hate and derision
Of incensed knowledge and vision.
Of arbitrary decision.

A murderous, hopeless,
Heartbreaking decision.

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