we do not trust you with nights. when you fall into the death
in your mouth. cold. we set our left
eyes ablaze to your feet. we lend our ears
to the door. to be sure the morning is not your mass of mourning.
but how again do we tell you? that we
are also miserable. that beneath this fine
silk of the sun. our skin is a scroll of scars. and survival.
that we know life is not perfect. and death too is
not enough. not for freedom.
is death not a defeat. cage. and not a perfect place to
fly free? so we live.
we live the sunlight. we learn how to stitch our despair
into wonder wings and find the spirit to fly.
and you are still here. spread like darkness. defiling
sweet hearts with your sadness.
©Afrikáná Web. 2018