This poem is taken from Stand 228, 18(4) December 2020 - February 2021.

Beatrice Teissier Notes from a War Zone
The People

Of those who knew X who had spoken to power and now lay like a bloodied rag doll on a cell floor, some ran as fast as they could, others were silent, others muttered amongst themselves and formed groups, others thought he was mad and sucked up to power. But the tyrant had them arrested anyway: ‘Betrayal is in everyone’s heart’ he said.


He has almost finished digging holes for the two wooden crates. He will then start mixing bags of concrete and water with his bare hands, and pour it over the crates. Outside the museum bullets are flying. His assistant is packing: marble heads, gold jewelry from 3000 years ago, clay figurines, bronze daggers, mosaic panels, Neolithic stone tools. ‘Hurry, hurry’ he says. ‘There is too much’ she says ‘I can’t choose: I no longer understand our history’.

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