To the people of the UK

You don't know me
But I know you
Very well

I have seen your country's future
It looks very much like my country's past

You have voted that way
Here is what will happen next:

The fracture
The shattering
The pulling apart

By which I mean of friends
Families
Lives
Communities
Your Union
Consciences
And most of all
Your own selves

In large parts of the country
This pulling apart has already begun
Now it will accelerate

And there will be the sounds of ripping
Like fabric being torn
But amplified
So it will pierce your ears

And there will be the shrill sounds
Like claws being scraped down a board
They will reverberate in your teeth
And crack through your bones

And there will be the sounds of things falling
Of shelves collapsing
And when you try to set them back in place
There will be nowhere for you to put them
Because you will find their place has been lost forever

And there will be splitting sounds
And slipping sounds
And sliding sounds
Of all the things falling over
And that can never be made to stand upright again

And there will be despair
You will glimpse it lurking in the corners of rooms
But when you look closer
It will seem to have disappeared
Like a ghost
And you will try to reassure yourself
That everything is fine
But in the pit of your stomach
You will know the truth
Tchatchipé

And that is where you
And all your emotions
Will now live
In the pit of your aching stomach
Rather than in the joy
Of your beating heart