Sunday Poem: The Writing on the Wall

‘Wogs out’ the graffiti sprayed

In those Bedfordshire days

That led me to question

With what affection

was my sort held?

 

Signed ‘NF’ in marker pen iridescence

On pallid South Beds Council urinals

Indecencies scrawled indelibly

On my mind

That led me to question

With what affection

was my sort held?

 

The shards of corner shop glass

Thwarted our fragile path

To post-racial harmony

We lived in the Dark decades

Ages

of ignorance and violence

Was it my problem?

That the chant was sung:

‘Pakis outnumbered 10 to 1’

That led me to question

With what affection

was my sort held?

 

In morbid expectation

I awaited black History pages

Of dehumanised victims

 

Beads of perspiration created

A red glow of knowing tinged my skin

As I uncomfortably listened in

to narratives

of the passive recipients of slavery

Tragedies with no heroes

That led me to question

With what affection

was my sort held?

 

In contemplation

Was it your intention?

For me to assent to

Condescending classifications

And ideas of Nation?

 

Racism was never mentioned

In those Bedfordshire daze.

 

Written by Andrew Geoffrey Kwabena Moss

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