No Surgery

The appalling shooting of Jacob Blake has left its bullets in every right-thinking person's mind. But beyond the horrifying crime committed on Mr Blake is the crime committed on his family and particularly on his watching children. His mother's very moving and extraordinarily kind-hearted speech gives an insight into the type of person Jacob Blake must be; it highlights, should there ever be any doubts, the inappropriateness of the police actions taken.
I wanted to write a poem that focuses on the crime done to the children; its effects, I hope can be minimised, but, in general, I think the callous disregard for the effects of violence on onlookers, particularly children, is itself another crime with appalling consequences. I use the word 'they' for the shooting, because none of this would be happening if there wasn't some level of belief that the system accepts it.





No Surgery

When they shot him, they shot his children,

shot them in the eyes.

No surgery can remove

the bullets lodged in their brains

or retrieve the life that should have been:

ball games on the lawn, barbecues,

car rides, the casual banter

and horseplay of families.

No surgery can restore to them the full expression

of their father’s love;

the myriad communications of his body:

healing gestures when words fall short,

the subtle messages of love

from his unhindered face.

When they shot him, they shot his children

with bullets no surgery can remove.