A SON OF WINDRUSH REFLECTS
My mother’s pride to serve as a nurse,
Needs no poem, no song, no chapter, no verse,
Her subsequent rise to maternity ward sister,
Came after decades of service - no dream from a distant vista,
A junior prize winner - one of two that year from the Bajan Isle,
A medical student of the 1960s - witnessing the spark of upheaval in a combustible vial,
Onward to nursing qualification from the seat of empire,
To help address the vast wounds of war leaving expansive desires hanging by a wire,
Thousands of hours of study fuelled by the calling to be a healer of humanity,
Far more on the wards through daily tests that would wreck a layperson’s sanity,
Barking, King George, Newham, Rush Green amongst the hospitals seen,
None of them dampened the spirit or made her abandon the team,
Yet not one of those hours could frustrate,
Not one of those hours could allow the Windrush generation of medical talent to deflate,
The unavoidable meeting with the inherited state of psychotic supremacist vanity,
Expressed as a variation on a sentence spat from the most ungrateful patients - ‘take your black hands off me’.
Promotion, seniority and the earning of huge respect,
In the face of a slow and steady betrayal of the NHS dream - set on the path to being wrecked,
Through the ever escalating pressures of a system under huge strain,
The Hippocratic Oath’s ‘Joy of Healing’ was never put to shame,
The constant overlooking of shift pattern requests, the constant loss of great nurses and doctors,
Always exhausted, demoralized, stressed,
So an enforced move from the hospital to the GPs office - a change for this final vocational round,
A straighter route until retirement - by a simpler system bound,
Naturalization then seemed like an extra for an invited member of the aforementioned empire,
A prudent move at a time when leaders couldn’t tweet as if to erect more mental barbed wire,
Governmental oversight quadrupled that prudence - as the ink dries on a new definition of British citizen,
It is not where you are born - but the usefulness to a country’s needs ‘til who knows when’,
This Windrush scandal has caused deeper division at a divisive time,
Deportations, job losses, medical care unattainable - it is like the black presence is a crime,
It took 135 years to unveil the Mary Seacole monument,
Let’s hope it is not 135 more until the Windrush contribution is decently honoured with respectful portent,
As a witness to the immense changes that generation brought to an isle in denial,
Every battle and every victory sealed in your unflinching style,
As a product of an amazing life, love and ambitious intent,
It’s a privilege to proudly reflect this lineage - through the deep impression of the vital potential for
Ultimate conquest (lying latent?),
In those who are truly resilient. For Mum.
Discus Music was founded in 1994 by Martin Archer. The label releases leftfield rock music, free jazz, extended songform,
electronics, improvised music, and other sounds which defy categorisation.
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supported by 11 fans who also own “A Son Of Windrush Reflects”
Great set . Elton alas is no longer with us .
We will not see his like again .
Bandcamp has facilitated my explorations for finding other wise obscure releases.
Cheers to Bandcamp!! Nick Bradey
supported by 11 fans who also own “A Son Of Windrush Reflects”
An excellent set from Dean , Miller and p
Pyle . I wonder how many more unreleased gems remain , awaiting discovery ? Please keep up the good work 👍👍 Nick Bradey
Part spoken word, part contemporary composition, in this four-movement piece the Australian Art Orchestra explore isolation and connection. Bandcamp New & Notable Jul 13, 2021