by Benjamin Zephaniah (b. 1958)
They put a leather belt around her 13 feet of tape and bound her Handcuffs to secure her And only God knows what else, She's illegal, so deport her Said the Empire that brought her She died, nobody killed her And she never killed herself. It is our job to make her Return to Jamaica Said the Alien Deporters Who deports people like me, It was said she had a warning That the officers were calling On that deadly July morning As her young son watched TV. An officer unplugged the phone Mother and child were now alone When all they wanted was a home A child watch Mummy die No matter what the law may say A mother should not die this way Let human rights come into play And to everyone apply. I know not of a perfect race I know not of a perfect place I know this is not a simple case Of Yardies on the move, We must talk some Race Relations With the folk from immigration About this kind of deportation If things are to improve. Let it go down in history The word that is officially She died democratically In 13 feet of tape, That Christian was over here Because pirates were over there The Bible sent us everywhere To make Great Britain great. Here lies the extradition squad And we should now all pray to God That as they go about their job They make not one mistake, For I fear as I walk the streets That I may just one day meet Officials who may tie my feet And how I would escape. I see my people demonstrating And educated folks debating The way they're separating The elder from the youth, When all they are demanding Is a little overstanding They too have family planning Now their children want the truth. As I move around I am eyeing So many poets crying And so many poets trying To articulate the grief, I cannot help but wonder How the alien deporters (As they said to press reporters) Can feel absolute relief.