Under the moonlight, in lieu of Amma, Khala, Sassi, Affa and me, they picked flowers for us. 

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I see you in all the green around me,

the flowers and the blooms.

Something about them draws me in.

To caress the leaves and the petals

then snatch them from the soil

they're rooted in

The soil I have no roots in.

The roots ready to be uprooted,

They claim no ownership over the land we step foot on

Yet, the land claims them.

How do we decolonise without the leadership of Amma, Khala, Sassi and Affa?
When we speak the Queen's English but

our mother tongue has our tongues tied?

How do we continue the work and care of our ancestors

when we navigate the land

with the Queen's knowledge

on the tip of our tongues?

35mm film photography series & poem, 2021