POSTED 06/05/2018 12:33
Silence drove us from Nile to Mississippi
to clean the ugly scars at its bottom.
The world wept -
Our tongues tasted her tears.
Our backs were burnt into the future
which a little boy folded in his left palm.
Strokes from the sun filled our stomachs,
our perspiration sealed our throats' thirsts.
The bald erne sang a lament;
for our men making moves to expiration,
for our women whose womb have been locked,
for our boys battling with babesiosis,
and for our girls grounded in giardiasis.
A day before yesterday;
men were thicker than blood,
women were as firm as the roots of trees,
boys were as sharp as the thorns in the fields,
and girls were waves pushing the seas.
In betwixt our teeth and our feet,
we found a black and white image
with phobia for who grasps it.
The world won our silence
and we stopped tearing.
We were delivered into the waiting hands of Nile.
Your own Nile! My own Nile! Our own Nile!
There, we danced and orchestrated;
Our past injuries,
Our present treatment, and
Our future healings.
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