The coat he wore [one night in Peckham]

Whenever my mother sees a child skipping along she says “It is God who teaches them to skip that way, Who watches over them as they play.”

 10 year old  Damilola Taylor was seen skipping his way to the library on the evening in November 2000 when he was stabbed in the thigh with a broken bottle by children just a few years older than himself. Damilola was the same age as me, I have never forgotten him, what happened to him was an eyeopener to me of the reality of the ugly side of society that is just below the surface in Britain today. I cannot put what I have written forward as a great work of art, it isn’t, but I hope it is a tribute, Damilola is not forgotten. It is believed that the gang picked on Damilola because he was wearing a colourful and attractive coat specially made for him by his mother, this reminded me not a little of the biblical Joseph with his coat of many colours.

The coat that he wore was threaded through with love

for he was a special son, a lad among the other’s,

he could distinguish a way of behaving that was not good

between folks who should live together as brothers.

Brotherhood was not his dream but he had come to see

that unless people were bonded together and united

then the hope he cherished, to bring relief and succour,

to “defend his world” and glaring wrongs could not be righted.

*

The coat he wore was bestowed on him with tremendous love

by people who knew and understood him the best

who helped nourish his dream investing in his young life

hopes and aspirations of their own to strengthen his earnest

All of these hopes and aspirations and dreams were not the fruit

nor even the seed, but they were, you might say, as heaven’s rain

or the sun blest goodness giving growth to that dwelling within

the heart of kindness and love, the youth himself was the grain

*

The coat he wore was the symbol of what he had and was

that made him different, set aside, in a sense stand apart

what was given him in loving affection, by those who had his care

became the focus of those with only wickedness in their heart

It made his heritage as an speckled hen among the birds

[for so he was, so he was]

the dull voice of greed and jealousy with spite

brooding and muttering and seething in the dark place

“come now let us put an end to this dreamer of visions bright.”

*

The coat that he wore one night drank in his life blood

the dreams he had were not dreamed upon a pillow

but on that night they became the cause for which

the final place on which he would lay his head [such sorrow]

was a concrete step, cold and hard, as if in sneering metaphor

but dreams dreamed in the heart of a boy’s love will never die

as God is in heaven, his gentle, friendly smile will not pass away

but they will be redeemed and they will live bye and bye. 

*

 I will travel far and wide

to choose my destiny

to remould the world

I know it is my destiny

to defend the world

which I hope to do in my lifetime

*

I want to be the best

like no-one has ever been

the world we must defend

and I know it is my destiny.

*

by Damilola Taylor

http://www.damilolataylortrust.com

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