Not
This is not my mother being shot point blank
This is not my son being dragged by the hair
his left eye blown by shrapnel
This is not my daughter being dragged
out of her car and into an unmarked van
This is not my grandfather being kicked over
and over again
This is not my baby being left alone
in the back of a car full of broken windows
This is not my cousin disappeared into some
other country’s torture prison
This is not my husband held under the knee
in a choke hold struggling to breathe and failing
This is not my wife pulled into a portable toilet
whilst in handcuffs
This is not my lifelong friend broken by the loss
of their families
This is not my nurse killed for helping someone
This is not my trans friend being sentenced
to 5 years in prison for going to the toilet
This is not my paedophile plotting with
leaders in tech companies, novelists and media moguls
on how to divide opposition and take the power
from everyone else
This is not my war, not my war, not my war
This is not my country becoming not my country
This is not my protestor facing tear gas
and batons
This is not my silence splintering into incoherent
wails
This is not my poem,
this is my witness
that they will try to discredit
This is not my poem,
this is my hand
trying to hold on, trying to hold yours.