Albion’s Witness

I took this photo walking on the Downs in late July, still trying to make sense of the country I had grown up in, and what it had done to me, and all trans people. Seeing this old(ish) waypoint marker made me think of “Albion” and the ancient land I stood on, and how we have seemingly learnt nothing from older wisdom. It took about the time I had left to get back to the car before I had drafted this poem.

Albion’s Witness

Who will bear witness
To the crimes against us
In this grim and putrid land
This septic Isle
Where it’s rulers hand
Down hatred with a smile
And we are sacrificed
At Albion’s Golgotha