This is not a poem. Marlize Hobbs-Russell

This is not a poem; it is a protest march
these are not words, they are an angry mob
with this I become what you call “a barbarian”
Is this what our freedom has become?
I will set the captives free again, break the shackles
With my words: I am setting fire to your ideas
of righteousness; I am burning down Nkandla
I am throwing stones at your windows, tearing down the velvet curtains
keeping us in, taking away our freedom
Look! There is a world outside your window
The earth is shouting it out
from Tabel Mountain to Wits
From the farms to the schools
from the sea to the Kalahari:
The struggle is not over
It has only just begun
Come arrest me, you policemen, come guard my words
come lock up what I have to say, come show me your cowardly strength
I am roaring like the ocean, I am joining the tsunami of voices
Is this your freedom? Is this your equal opportunity?
Is this what our people died for?
I am drawing blood from the jugular of the alphabet
I will use my words to march against
your ‪#‎institutionalizeddiscrimination
I will claw at your gates of privilege
I will tear down these invisible walls of haves and havenots
I am not writing poetry, I cannot afford your alphabet
I am stealing letters to form sentences
to somehow make sense of it all
I am stealing from your Alphabet
my feet are burning in the streets
of the capital… we do not have the capital to afford
your alphabet of violence
This is not a poem
these are not words
these are our children
our future
yours and mine and ours
The struggle isn’t over,
it has only just begun

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