Three Sisters Brighton Beach

On the early morning of 13 May, a call went out that someone was in difficulty in the sea off Brighton Beach. When the rescue team got to the beach, the bodies of three women were found.

I’ll be honest. At first, I thought this was a tragedy involving (white) women with the use of the word ‘women’ and with the media coverage this disaster was receiving reinforced this assumption.

Later these women were identified as three sisters. Three black women, Jane Adetoro, and Christina Walter and Rebecca Walter.

What a heartbreaking tragedy to happen within one family. My heart and deepest sympathy goes out to their family and friends.

In a heartbreaking tribute, their father Joseph said: “No words can truly describe the pain of losing three daughters in the prime of their lives. Jane, Christina, and Becky were more than daughters to me; they were my joy, my strength, and the beautiful light that filled our family with happiness and love.”

Sussex Police are investigating this tragedy and believe at this stage that there are no suspicious circumstances or criminal intent in connection to these deaths.

I don’t know how they can come to such findings so early in their investigations. And should keep an open mind. The only consolation is that the police and media are actively investigating and reporting the death of these three black women as far too often, as I’ve shared recently, the disappearance, murder and deaths of black women in suspicious circumstances is ignored, neglected and dismissed.

I hope the mysterious and tragic deaths of these women is soon to be investigated and explained for the sake of their families as this is such a sad sad case of affairs.

overlapping/ layering of loss

In the time it takes me to write this sentence,

my ­ mum must have lost her capacity to breathe.

Quick and unexpected, her passing.

Here one day and then gone the next.

I’m keeping close to the bone as the wound is raw,

27 years later.

Up until now, there’s been a balance –

the years I had her with me versus the years without.

Loss constitutes a black mother’s life, but what about their daughters?

Mourning in the early morning, when the news found me,

sleepless and fearful, until this Autumn when I will have to learn

how to navigate this life beyond without.

Loss splits time into the before and after.

A rupture fires the heart, triggers

the already-always -thereness of loss,

the always-already-thereness of the ghosts

we carry with us into our many battles

and violent (work)spaces.

peony practice

peony, oxeye daisy, foliage and rose.

i practice their names like i practice how to breathe

without you. i smell you still upon the covers, upon my skin.

citrus, moss and burnt wood. your magic seeped under

my skin into the blood. hypnotising my senses and made

me light, made me forgetful and soft. no regrets.

i only wish, i had kept my eyes open in order to see your guise slip

like a big blousy peony petal to the earth.

affairs of the heart

i enter the arena on my own terms

looking for what, i do not know

but I’m open and caring, wise and full

the reveal i did not see coming, the betray

harsh and bitter like garlic, it was his insecurities

still i’m the one pinned to the board

like a specimen, like a freak, like a crushed butterfly