Everything is broken

In Sierra Leone
everything is broken
in pieces strewn apart.

My ancestors’ medals for slavery
that were pinned to their chests
are now pinned to the water.

The connection to my African
language is broken;

and when English is spoken here,
the English is broken.

Today in Freetown it’s aching with rain.
I’m outside the National rehab center.
I’m filming a Peace Wall.
I’m waiting for my sister to finish up her meeting
with the Director of rehab.

In the ether her words comingle
bare her soul like an abstract painting

I wish I had the perfect umbrella for her,
but I don’t.

In Sierra Leone we’re all in the waiting room.

I make films to gather time,
to witness the unsayable.

This time around…

Sierra Leone will not cleave at the spine,
nor splinter into disquietude.

She has been promised peace.
A clean sheet.

One thought on “Everything is broken

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