Ceinwen Haydon

Fair Play on 24/06/2016

I want to wake up tomorrow
to find a new world –
one in which today
simply didn’t happen.
But that’s foolish:
the schisms, the inequalities
the anger and the fear
are all here and have been
for a very long time.

A child said,
‘Why does it matter,
the colour of your skin,
your income or the job
you’re in?’ I replied,
‘It doesn’t for you, the
fair-skinned, loved child,
who summer camps in France.
But, your best friend, she is
different, in so many ways –
and so, she may not
do well, not like you.
The child said,
‘But that’s not fair.’
That’s NOT fair and
in essence,
that hopelessness
has fed the vulture Brexiteers.



I am voting to remain because I
want the family to fight like
brothers and sisters who
at least know the reason why
they fight, without the need to
kill. It’s all beyond us, rules and
regulations, yet anarchy
did not deliver either.
Don’t deceive yourselves.
The blood of two world wars
tattoos our skin:
needle and ink cannot abstain
with conscience. But hope
might just bring in
a vessel to help us float
beyond the rapids
of hate and hopelessness.



I’d never heard your voice before today,
Jo Cox, just your name. YouTube
resurrects you and I cry. Why?
Fucking hell, why do all the good ones
go so soon. My daughters’ faces,
forty-odd and safe and sound
for now, filter your picture.
Dearest Jo, your children howl,
and Brendan too, and you
the one who ran, loved life,
I wonder what you’d do?
Jo Cox, thank the goddess,
so belatedly for you. I, I
saw your dreams living
in the frantic arms of
all who’d lost their reason
to stay sane.