Sadness
And madness
Bares fruit
On the London commute.
“White people think we live in trees.
Please
Tell
How I ring the bell”.
She is unwell
Her mind full of some song
Of real or imagined wrong.
“Stolen from Africa” she says.
Soon we will go our separate ways.
Her days
Full of god knows what.
The train stops
And she gets off.
Has there been racism in this lady’s life?
Or is it some other strife
That made her rant and shout
As we travellers went about
Our daily commute.
I can not get to the root
of it
A mind shattered into bits.
This morning while traveling on the train, a lady who described herself as coming from Zimbabwe addressed her fellow commuters. Among other things she said that white people believe Africans still live in trees and asked that someone tell her how to ring the bell (the communication cord to stop the train).
I don’t know what was going on in this lady’s head (no one had said anything to provoke her outburst) and I can only conclude she is in need of medical help.
K Morris - Poet 
I hope that lady is alright. Perhaps if she knew what inspiration she had provided she might be more at peace with herself!
Thanks for your comment Lucy. I also hope the lady is OK. It is a delicate issue to address and I was in two minds as to whether to put pen to paper. However I don’t think we writers should shy away from difficult issues merely because it would be easier for us to write about flowers and lambs playing in the field, hence I decided to set down my thoughts. All the best. Kevin
I agree completely and you executed it perfectly, as ever.
Thanks Lucy. Best. Kevin
Sad for the lady on the train. Your poem describes the exchange vividly.
Thanks for your comment Tess. As you say, “sad for the lady on the train”. Best wishes. Kevin
You are welcome, Kevin.