Tuesday, 16 October 2012

Free Bird (A poem & a portrait)


She had thought
By trivializing sex
She could lessen
The weight 
Of the experiences
Of her childhood.

But now, she’s really free.

She’s free to live.
At last she’s free:
To fly or dance 
Or leap or float.

She’s free to live.
Today, she’s free
To face the pains
And rains that drenched
Her soul in those years
Of total abandonment.

She’s free to live.
Free to be her soul’s
Perfect sense of self
Before the Harmattan 
Cracked her lips,
and patched her throat, 
and broke her kinky hair
and warped her tired soles.

Now, at last, she’s as free
as a free bird.

NB: The model and the poem have nothing in common.

How Do You Uproot 500 Years of Racism?