dropped into the palms
of our youth,
clearly not cautioned
are the bundles of cotton
singled out and humiliated
as the lady grinned a
great white smile, communicating
the words of 160 years ago.
she displays our rock-bottom
using those clumps of cotton
and reminds us of our escape from it,
that eventually our sweet freedom went sour,
the sugar of our fruits and roots rotten
all because of the pile of cotton.
it reminds us of the long trek we
have walked, the journey we have coursed
through thickets of evil that made hell
appeasing.
we are reminded how we have been told
that we will never reach the stars or the sky,
the our beautiful hope, tied like a
ribbon in the sky won't ever fly.
we are reminded of Peter
reminded of our hopeless hope,
reminded that the sour will never be sweeter
it reminded us of all we wished was forgotten
simply because in between the clutches
of the Devil
were tufts of cotton.
YOU ARE READING
The Mind of a Black Girl
Poésie"The black girl who will embody you all through my small voice that will soon become powerful." ~~~ i have a lot to say and it's on these pages.
