I fear for the soil

The mother and

Child in tow

The gentle hello

To my foreign wife

I fear that when

She leaves the house

She might not come back

The bus stop is danger

The supermarket

The train

Walking down the streets

I called my own

But now they are “Theirs”

And we must be quiet and hide

Until my country comes back

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“I need to flee my country?”

Stay and die

“I wish to stay in Britain?”

Then lighten your skin

Change your religion  

Don’t talk in your mother tongue

Then you will be fine

If you decide not to accept:

Bricks through your window

Be shouted at

and knocked and spat at

in the streets

Because this is the rotten cradle of democracy

...

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