Stratford
I sat down beside a girl with a white hijab
I smiled, she smiled back
Everyone on their phone
You said
No-one talks
I know, it’s London, no-one talks
Eyes down glazed, entranced by the screen
The odd glance as the station approaches
West Ham
Our eyes met
Your eyes danced dark and lively
I always talk I have to talk
You said and told me your story
(So much pain behind the dancing eyes
Arranged marriage
Domestic abuse
On the run from husband father mother-in-law
Beaten
Canning Town
I was in a bad situation
You said
I still suffer
I live in a refuge now
I can’t go back
Not even to my family
But I am strong
I want to be free
I want a kind man
Are English men kind?
We talked a lot
Her life in a northern city
So boring you said after your native Marrakesh
Racism
Just because I wear this
So young and pretty in your white hijab
London Bridge
My stop is next
Where are you going?
Westminster I think-to walk, explore
Then back North to the refuge
I will be free one day
Waterloo
This is my stop
Thank for talking
You said
Thank you for your smile
I said
You have a beautiful smile
Stay safe
Lovely poem, Lesley.
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