Watch, Listen, Read Just Listen - Tahmina Ali Life right now is a labyrinthWhere we tiptoe around mouse traps,We hide in the dull shade of safety Compromising dreams for dinners. When the bricks or our homes start to crumbleUnder the pressure of paying billsWe can’t afford to collapse with themSo we imagine flamboyant fireworksWe imagine white pines and partieswaiting for us on the other side We are told to have “hope”, so we try We squint to catch a glimpse of itBut “hope” is a string stretched thin into space where only the moon can touch itIt is a black whole that accedes into oblivionA loose end left undoneA perk only available to the privileged So we shout for help, we beg A mother’s knees sinking into the groundHer arms stretched outAre her cries not loud enough?A young autistic woman isDog-eyed from the lengths she’s had to runEvery time she makes it to the front of the queueshe is launched back.She is told to wait Do not doubt our resilienceWe are proud, we are defiantWe are not weak, but we are spentBent out of shape,Chiselled and carved until we fit into pencil frames Our minds are tattered Our hearts are tired How small does a woman have to becomeBefore she is permitted for a helping hand?Fingers blistered from crawling out of towering shadowsNails cracked from only just scratching the surface Tell me, Are you listening?Like actually listening?Or is your answer to the questions I’ve not yet asked, already waiting at the tip of your tongue?Are your preconceived opinions desperate to spill from the lips that repeatedly tell us, they are here to help? To help, to understand you must walk in our bootsSpend a night in our trenches, where murky mud climbs to the hips Where women feel fear before curiosity, when the postman knocks on the doorWhere girls have to mask in order to fit inWhere bins are overflowing with opportunities that have no accessWhere we dream of safetyWhere we hold hands to keep warmWhere in the dark deep pits, we search for each other Because nobody else answers our calls This is not palms clutching for hand outs, its women searching for homeFor a place where the saving of lives, is not left only to poetry.Where art meets respect Where voices are heardWhere a promise is more than a bucket with holes This is women searching for a place where kindness prevails. Poem by Tahmina Ali commissioned by Poet in the City and University of Warwick with generous support from the ESRC and Sidney E. Frank Foundation as part of Newcastle's Poetry Exchange Hub.