Brent’s bells toll for freedom

I wrote this poem at a workshop run by Simon Mole on behalf of Brent council. I had to pick a building in the area that inspired me and write about it. I chose Brent town hall because of its strong traditions in being open about immigration in television how’s such as Danny Wallace’s ‘How to start your own country’.

Brent’s bells toll for freedom

Soft palm clutches
Crinkled
Sweat soaked, ink stained, appointment card.
Ten am,
Born again.
Mother tongue left at the door.

Stairs to the future
Littered with ghosts
Of histories forced to be traded
For legality,
And membership to the 60 million club.

So far the trek from one place
To this new land,
Fraught with problems of its own,
Has seen earth
And sea
And strangers
Whip past windows
And doors
And destinies missed.

Compassion for the new
In our society
Can be a rare commodity.
But here it runs over
The bricks,
Racing skywards.
Penetrating clouds
And making rain fall.

Oh sweet London drizzle,
How I have longed.

Now with her majesties blessing
Free passage awaits.
From home to abroad
And home again.
To my new land,
Mostly tyranny free.

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