This is a very visceral poem, Maryanne and your voice carries its message well. This is more of a speech than a poem, and the shaky pride that exists throughout this poem is palpable. The injustice is loud, and the final line is silencing.

'I've never had to fear for my life
while roaming the city streets at night,
but you do.'

I find 'roaming' a little unfitting as I find it unintentionally negative in its connotations? I'm not entirely sure why, but the sentiment hits hard. I once wrote something similar about women in a poem about rape, but this is another type of living I will never understand. White male privilege. Fearing for your safety in your own country due to your gender and/or skin colour is a terrifying thought.

'You, who watch those in uniform
be pardoned time and time again,
no shackles, just a slap on the wrist.'

It's infuriating. The shackles are only for the oppressed right? It's upsetting that freedom of speech only exists until a certain point in which the speech becomes a problem. Some people's language is rioting, some scream platitudes at a tv screen, some repeat mantras that have long lost their meaning, some write poetry. It doesn't matter. Where will our outrage be in a few months when these problems still exist but the smoke has waned?

I loved this.