Tuesday, December 04, 2018
"Grenfell Tower, June 2017"
By Ben Okri
It was like a burnt matchbox in the sky.
It was black and long and burnt in the sky.
You saw it through the flowering stumps of trees. You
saw it beyond the ochre spire of the church. You saw
it in the tears of those who survived.
You saw it through the rage of those who survived.
You saw it past the posters of those who had burnt to ashes. You saw
it past the posters of those who jumped to their deaths. You saw it
through the TV images of flames through windows Running up the
You saw it in print images of flames bursting out from the roof. You
heard it in the voices loud in the streets.
You heard it in the cries in the air howling for justice.
You heard it in the pubs the streets the basements the digs. You
heard it in the wailing of women and the silent scream Of orphans
wandering the streets.
You saw it in your baby who couldn’t sleep at night Spooked
by the ghosts that wander the area still trying To escape the
fires that came at them black and choking. You saw it in your
dreams of the dead asking if living Had no meaning being
poor in a land
Where the poor die in flames without warning.
Read more here