Poetry from Abigail George

A funeral wreath for Gaza, apartheid for us

I am transparent

I am thing

I am war

I am insomniac

I am dream

I am war

I am atomised

I am radioactive

I am war

I am child

I am mother

I am father

I am poet

I am war

I am Africa

I am war

I am writing to reach you

I am war

I am not calm

In war, no one is calm

My poems

mean absolutely nothing

to the ghosts that

now inhabit Gaza.

What honey and milk taste like during war

You, war, talk to me of

 the alternate universe

you live in, talk to me or

don’t talk to me of

your dead. In war, the

child is alone. The poet

stands alone. I think of all

the summers I was

loved. I am waiting for the

dead to meet me

For my second mother

to greet me, for her to

embrace me, call me,

welcome me home.

You, Gaza, are Steve

Biko. You will always

be remembered. Monuments

will be built in your honour.

I will remember your name for

centuries. I picked up

the human bone in the dirt.

It, too, was a gift.

Prayer For The Future or Wildflowers Growing Out Of The Eyes Of The Sun

He’s going to have

 children with

another woman

 because I can’t

have them anymore

Wildflowers bloom

in my stomach

 lining, my aorta,

my cranial devices,

my medulla oblongata,

my womb

There’s a starry-starry night

in my ovaries

Oh, they have never seen nor

felt the light of day

No children have I

No man by my side

Only an army

Angels in front

Angels behind

And the infinite potential of

The mind

I teach millions of children

about the nature of the medicinal

properties of plants

How to heal and knit and sew

 propaganda to the instruments of change

Dear Gaza,

the world will never

forget your dead

Dead children

Dead women

Dead men

I will always love that river

The ebb and flow of that river

To the sea

Watch me chase

the cloud like a horse

Call upon the birds

to feast on shrapnel

To protect the children’s eyes

To protect their liberty.

4th of March, 2024

I did it for Yasser

No extremist was I

There was a cause I was fighting for

An issue at stake

One fine autumn day

my mother was Russia

and I was Biden

I called her entourage

 and said I wanted a meeting

but they giggled behind my

 back and so my mother and

 I went our separate ways

I ate Jerusalem in tiny bite sized

 pieces but my mother told me in

 no uncertain terms that I had to share

So I divided what I had left into

two between the east and the west,

 calmly composed myself and went

 in search of Oriental studies.

2nd of March, 2024