Woman From Congo
I am woman …
WOMAN
Of Congo,
Chewed,
Spat out,
And bestowed with straw basket
To fetch water.
You set upon us
Wild dogs,
Stretching our legs wide,
Ripping out our genitals and dignity
To nurse your children’s
Craving.
‘fore you design gods;
Ones who create dolts,
Small-minded folks,
And feast on minerals –
Congo was a lady
And I … I am
WOMAN,
Strong black woman.
I bought some views
On black market;
They are rare commodities,
Sat down with glass of nsamba
on the rocks
And seriously contemplate …
It is hard to buy
Black market stuff;
We are set up
To think
East is inferior to west,
Barring them Europeans
Who broke their necks
To dwell in Canaan.
One thing is for sure,
They alleged a better name
And substitute
The ones we were given;
Those with implications.
Oh, what things we see
When we start looking
From our own eyes.
I am WOMAN …
Woman alone
And taken against my desire,
Ravished by the corporations;
The gods who create your children
I am WOMAN,
Woman from Congo.
Copyright © Earle Brown | Year Posted 2011
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