I need, pure ground to breathe
A space, where I can be whole again
To take in the freshness, that is air
Without a racist knee on my black neck
I hide behind my mask, not to gain
But in hope that the sun will rise again
Like a jackhammer, my lungs hammer
Something inside me, stammer
A tight engine, shortness of breath
As speechless as a broken Speaker
These lungs are a blade that sheathe
Corona wielding threateningly - a swindler
Taking away beloved ones from loved ones
A perfect world , turned into imperfection
Like the racist knee that took George Floyd
A duel between precious life - sorrowful death
Yes, like that racist knee on the neck
Breathing is a humanly hope and reason -
ALL LIVES DO MATTER
L. Sakazi Thwala
