Punching Police...

On not (yet) punching the police...

I watched your face, the glint in your eyes, the upturned lips between smile and grimace, the way you relished her scream of pain, the way you twisted tighter so she’d do it again, the way your uniform meant nothing at all, the way when you knew I was looking – seemed to make you even more cruel.

That was the moment I cracked – you were the straw on my camel’s back; I wanted to punch you again and again, wanted you to know MORE than her pain, wanted you to feel futile and small, wanted YOU to curl up in a protective ball. I wanted to punch you in your gloating face, how the hell do we end up in this sort of place? I actually wanted this to be a thing I’d do and realise you’re making me just like you.

You treat this as just another Saturday night brawl, throwing the elders, the young and all; not once have you bothered to truly assess, the reason we’re here and why we protest. ACAB they say and I did not – some are absolute bastards and others are not… but that uniform paints you all the same and I find it hard to remember your number and name … so soon it will be that I no longer engage and the sight of you will just bring on the rage.

So I write this to you, the cop with the face – I still want to punch it and that’s a bloody disgrace… what part of community safety do you represent? What possible way can our rifts ever mend? We’re broken and battered, bruised and pained – but despite all the confrontation, you can’t say the same. Exemplary are we who are not punching your faces, be grateful for that as one day… we may trade places.

Now as I sit in the company of my grandchild, fresh from a cuddle and an ‘I love you Grandma’ – I find the hate in my belly still festering, an alien in there resting. Life touched in all its parts, uninvited you’re in here attacking my heart. There’s no calm strong enough to shut you out, no way I can escape what you’ve made this about.

I came in peace but you made this war.

Ps..
There is a cure though and I know it well… it’s over here where there’s genuine heart-felt – love and compassion, trust and support in the arms of the activists… my beautiful cohorts <3 span="">