Poetry

We were on High Street. More arrests.
We read their names in the papers,
Read the charges. I knew he was frightened
My big brother. He'd already cleared out his room
Gotten rid of anything suspicious. Stopped meeting
Certain friends, stayed clear of certain places.
They shouldn't have had a thing.

Then, on High Street, his eyes widened.
He'd seen them. If you go without a fuss, he'd told me
They don't hurt you as much. They were closer.
He seized my hand and held it tight. I was scared.
I loved my big brother.

They said a few words, then started to lead him away.
I wouldn't let go of his hand. He's innocent
I wanted to say. But so was everyone else.
They pulled us apart. And as they took him down High Street,
My big brother turned and looked at me.
I never saw him again.