128 My Safe Space

Shatter panes of broken glass, by brutish built state bully boys, dressed in black and blue,
They smashed through the library door, charging in to where anarchist angels used to tread,
They stormed though this humble house, of dusky sofas, rickety book shelves, multi-coloured pray flags, and peaceful art…

But what they took was my safe space.

128 was a place that came to feel like a home for me,
A place safe from the terror of the world, caught up in the whirl wind of consumption, domination, suppression, I found a place I felt safe,
Bit by bit this house let me grow, a place my children one by one came to know and call home too,

But what the police took was our safe space

When the world they told me how I should fit into with, a job, career, to be a good citizen, but instead this world bullied, harassed me and tossed me aside,
128 was there for me,
When the patriarchical dream fell apart, due to sexual confusion, brutality, 128 offer a new safe, of bright yellow walls, and smiling faces, furry friend tea parties , place to paint, and find myself again,

But the police invaded my safe space

And although me and 128 are only new friends, many have know her warmth and friendship longer than I, and many a traveller has found a bed for the night,
128 has already become a friend to me. And it is a national shame that the people we are told that “keep us safe” failed to respect my safe space…their rules, their agenda, they brought with them the violence of the outside world, to a little piece of true Aotearorian paradise…my darling 128.