by Amani Karisa
we’re gathered here
outside parliament
boys and girls
dressed in black
swinging our bodies
in slow motion
singing dirges
with hoarse voices
fists raised
against the wind
arms stretched out
holding posters
painted with blood
from the vaginas
and thigh bruises
of our young sisters
afraid
trembling
who will be next
a random Nigerian
or the girl next door?
RIP Uyinene Mrwetyana