LYNN WHITE

 

 

Time And Place

 

What did he do

that little boy

when he Resisted

the Occupation,

for that was the charge

against him.

If he killed,

it seems

it was a soldier

out of place

illegally placed

in that place.

 

But sometimes

in some places

illegal becomes legal

and resistance is criminal.

 

Sometimes

in those places,

to exist

is crime enough

for some,

those

whose childhood is stolen

whose youth is stolen

whose land is stolen

like that boy

in that place

where power

not law

defines legality.

 

Then And Now

 

Once we were free

              somewhere else

                        or so they say.

Then we were slaves

              somewhere closer

                       or so they say.

Then we were freed

               somewhere near

                       or so they say.

And now,

what are we now

               here?

And what am I now

a young woman

               here?

I don’t feel free

               here

                     whatever they’re saying

now.

 

I listen out for them still

but now

                      they have nothing to say

for me

               here

                      me, a woman of colour.

 

Timescale

 

We see the sights, gawp at the spectacles,

go on expensive excursions to view them.

We have forgotten that they were built to subdue us,

to shock and awe

make us feel small

and insignificant,

to know our place in the scheme of things.

 

But we take for granted the everyday enormities,

the sky-scrapering giants of utilitarianism

towering over our Lilliputian selves.

We have long ceased to wonder,

to be impressed by their scale.

We play our games,

and live our lives

under their shadows,

and we don’t even see them.

 

It doesn’t matter our subjugation is complete.

 

The Great Dictator

 

He thinks he’s so fine

resplendent

well groomed

perfectly dressed

strutting and tupping

to trump all their tricks.

 

He’s an early riser and cocky as cluck

his voice always loudest above all the rest

his promises always fatter and juicier

soon they’ll be kings of their castles, he says.

 

Then he calls them to roost

in the little shack that is their home.

His roost is grander.

He rules it now

and with his bone sharp spurs,

he’ll defend it to their death.

 

They’re all listening now,

the powerful, the powerless

obediently following his orders

but one day all those fluffy chickens

will come home to push him off his perch.

 

Then they’ll take him home.

 

LYNN WHITE

 

LYNN WHITE lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. She has been nominated for Pushcarts, Best of the Net and a Rhysling Award.