I’m mostly skin-colour blind, but in this post I want to reflect on the struggles within the black communities. You know that moment you have
It all starts with a good intention If I could change the world? The switching of seasons can’t bring constancy of reason, Where my people
In earnest beyond the Pings and Bongs of firearms And call to live your life on the ground with raised arms I see one dying
They said they loved us. They said what had hovelled us this long Would melt in the ideas they’d put to physical form, fixing the
Urbanised, I grew near concrete and car honks, not farms and cow horns Nor the chirp of birds harmonising farm hoes tilling the soil. My
It was tough, but soak it all up, learn from all and then you can design
A new way to live. Then call it culture, call it tradition. Call it Eden.