Days late and dollars short by Stephanie Farnsworth

Today we are told

to make amends

as hijabs are torn from heads and burned

as the battle cry becomes ‘white power’

as the ghosts of our nightmares come to rule the world.


Europe and America forgot that radical

meant a new way and

looked on with nostalgia for the years

when the only people who had rights

were the people who could pay for them.


Today we are told

to accept Brexit, Trump and a fascism

that most didn’t vote for;

and those who did

were lied to.


Today we are told

to learn to live with the loss of our humanity

but in a few years

we can ask for our rights back nicely.


When dancing on stars means

spitting on graves

and freedom

is trans people being left with the choice

of hiding or ending,


there can be no unity.


Since July almost every message has been

someone scared for their life.

I am soaked in death.


We are told to be happy;

we’ve taken back control

and the worst will come to pass,

because hope will carry us through.

But who among the worst off can afford hope?


Not the mother who can’t afford health care

for her chronically ill daughter.

Not the forty year old priced out of rehab.

Not the trans youths being told

they’ll be cured

by a therapist

the Vice President recommends.

Not the Polish worker

being told Brexit means

bye, bye.

Not the Muslims in France waiting

for President Le Pen.

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