• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 09
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One Hour

One hour, counted words, not enough.
Three years, too much time not to tell
how it was, how it should be.

Khadija Saye's art slowly climbs the London Hill
framed in her invisible breathe.

Khadija Mohammadou Saye, I write the words
on white paper. I have no right to speak of a talent
unless I can honour the name.

One hour, too many names, not enough time.
With the other 61 we wrote our words for the green book.
Some others sent their au pair along with a gold card.

A paperback in March 2018: 5 stars, send one up to the
22nd floor for Nadia Choucair, 'We can't breathe'.

Inspiration / expiration, our right to breathe in our own
dwelling. We all expire but not all will cry out
'I can't breathe'.

Not all will be deported, but we will all hear the cries
'I can't breathe'.

Justice, justice for the many. In it together, not together,
survivors. Not enough words, not enough time.


One Hour

Volume 07, Chapter 09, One hour.
Pass the baton, they will tell, Jay Bernard took to the stage
at Sergovia's former jail to launch Spain's first spoken word
Festival, then surged ahead to deliver the words to the Palace.

Others will be heard rapping the words on world service
'I can't breathe'.