I’ve heard this city called a multicultural city
but it doesn’t feel that way at all.
I walk for miles and notice the changes,
crossing invisible, unspoken walls.
Subtle shifts in grocery shops, hairdressers,
the types of clothing you can find.
I laugh at those who say we are blended
like some exotic smoothie, combined.
Black cheek rubbing against white.
We are a jigsaw city.
Fit together so snugly
that it’s hard to see the borders.
The mosque may gently brush
against the Catholic Church’s side,
but no-one dares transgress
the un-parted sea divide.
To the untrained eye we look united,
snoring gently by one another.
But these hidden boundaries sever us,
they blind us to our brother.