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