Poem: Maureen

Maureen

You ask me not to clench my fists
to hold my anger down.
You ask me not to purse my lips
nor swear nor wear a frown.
You tell me — let my anger go
that I should reconcile that it is me that I must know
to feel at one, and smile.

It's not what they have done to me,
it's what they've done to you;
children taken and not set free
that keeps my anger new.
Native title stolen now
not 200 years ago
I'm angry and I'm asking how
and I will not let go.

Invasion, theft and genocide
carried out in my name.
It's something they'd rather hide
I'll voice my anger and my shame.
The theft of land is violence;
while Blacks in prison die
I refuse to stand in silence
they'll hear my anger and my cry.

John Tomlinson

From GLW issue 320