Mad Fucking Witch

 

I'm a mad fucking witch, and there's a minister I hexed
For his everyday misogyny, not just that one text.
I'm a mad fucking witch, I'm angry to the core
As I shriek my words, I seek to settle a score.

Peter Dutton, you stand accused
Of failing to protect the women abused
In Australia's black sites for refugees
On the mainland, and overseas.

Women like "Abyan", pregnant from rape on Nauru.
You refused her abortion - what is she to do?
She is detained; her rapist is at large;
Just like you, he hasn't yet been charged.

Nazanin, who became suicidal,
Assaulted on Nauru. You did worse than stand idle.
You separated her from her family who loved her.
They wanted to be near, so they could support and hug her.

So many others, more than I can name,
Strip-searched by guards, forced to feel the shame,
The leering eyes, the threatening hands,
As they said they were looking for contraband.

Official abuse, you turn a blind eye,
You cover it up - or at least that's what you try.
But the truth is out - it wasn't just your text,
And this mad fucking witch knows what should happen next:

You should get the sack, and be made to stand trial
For failing to prevent these deeds so vile,
For failing to uphold the rights of detainees -
Of asylum-seekers and refugees -

For failing to protect those who've sought our care,
Who came the only way they could, by boat, not air.

I'm a mad fucking witch, enraged at what I see,
And I will fight till all the refugees are free.