I Want to Write, But...

I want to write,

but how can I when

they make my blood

shiver?

I want to write,

but how can I when

my pulse is louder

than my thoughts?

I want to write,

but how can I when

they take my words,

bending,

folding,

to suit their needs?

I want to scream,

but how can I when

they have stolen

my breath?

It is one thing to experience hate. It is another thing entirely to witness a community subjected to it, victimised relentlessly, while those who set the fire watch it burn with impunity.

That I am a victim and a witness to such abhorrent hate, which flows effortlessly and unhindered through the veins of this society, fills me with more rage than I can begin to explain.

My ability to write, to express a cohesive thought, has vanished, evaporated into the smoke while their embers burn.

Though the fire rages, we will be heard.

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