Dawn breaks with the tears of Isis,
Or purple light,
Or the colour of royalty,
In a concentration camp,
There are too many unspoken words,
And festering wounds on infected toes and injured hearts,
Memory is formless,
Slipping through the cracks of our lives,
And in the spaces between the sheets of these metal tents,
Echoing past the borders of this containment camp that is over a hundred years old,
And surrounded by a congregation of gun men,
This silent song,
Drawing those in the business of the tears of Mathare,
To try development project after development project,
Like a pile of T-shirts in Gikomba,
So I ask the son of god in the waning light of daybreak,
‘What is solidarity?’
Silence,
Knowing glances,
Let’s then gather,
Let’s go.
This poem is based on groundings with comrade Zangi
*Virago in Kiswahili means belongings. In Sheng it means many things, including bodily possessions. In English, it means a woman of strength, a warrior.
By Lena Anyuolo
