Page 84 - Poems by Alyson Malach - Childhood to Adulthood

We Deserve Better

In the heart of the UK, where the sun sometimes hides,

A Black woman stands, with her head held high.

She navigates a storm, familiar yet new,

Of anger, of sadness, of a deep, weary hue.

The riots flare up, and the streets roar with hate,

A nightmare repeated, a burdened fate.

But this isn't just chaos, not merely a brawl,

It's the echo of history, a long-standing call.

For too long, this land, with its green rolling hills,

Has harboured a darkness that wounds and kills.

Colonial shadows still stretch far and wide,

Racism festers, no longer just inside.

They say, "It's not us," but we know it too well,

This is our story, our ongoing hell.

The venomous words, the chants filled with spite,

Are part of a pattern, not a new blight.

Yet, through the fear and the anger that rise,

She questions her safety, her worth in their eyes.

How can she belong in a place that still turns,

A blind eye to the pain, the wounds that burn?

The media may twist, the authorities may fail,

But her spirit remains, though weary and frail.

She’s exhausted from fighting the same bitter fight,

For justice, for equity, for what’s simply right.

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