For Idil Ibrahim In memory of Tim Hetherington - 1970 - 2011
I cannot stay and speak my truth while the front line has no voice. The carpet doesn't share substance with the blood-clumped dust of Liberia; Red wine doesn't stain nations and it hasn't changed the world.
I cannot stay and walk these steps while the fragile youth stand. Our Sunday morning route doesn't cover landscapes of wounds and bodies; Central Park has never felt a thousand welted feet march for death.
I cannot stay and see your face while molten plastic scars her world. Your delicate eyes have never seen the darkness of a child's grief; Our democracy cannot fathom the searing, slow drip after a family massacred.
I cannot stay and feel worthy of your love while injustice goes unseen. My lens has immortalised what we held dear, but is yet to capture the human condition; I spoke to you like I spoke to them; Through decades of mortar fire I spoke to them.
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Inspired by the life of Tim Hetherington, a frontline war photographer and journalist. His story is well told in 'Which way is the front line from here?' A truly remarkable person.