My eyes tell the story of
busted up beatens seen
My cracked lips bleed the
guiltiness of my master
My ears accept the word
nigger
accept the cry in our songs we sing
My finger swell from picking
whit-balls of cotton
to please my master
My nostrals breath the enslaved air that
lingers on master’s plantation
I’ve lived the life of poverty and dreamed of freedom
Every strain of my hair portrays an act of him
timesmaster sex me at age twelve
every chilld i’ve carried
and every beaten i’ve gotten but
my eyebrows spark the
pride in my face
My chin hold burden and conceit
My jawline holds strenght and weakness from nights I’ve teard
I’ve lived the life of poverty and dreamed of freedom
My clothes hold the stench
of old onions and dirt rages
I wear no smile
DARK SHHH!
I hear horseback and flames of fire
torching my home
LIGHT SHHH!
what saw when being knock unconscious
from gun way
Purple
bruises, knots
Red
your blood, my blood, master’s blood
I shot him
stolen gun
Borwn
dirt that crammed in my toes
as I ran for his life
I’ve lived the life of poverty and dreamed of freedom
My tougue can’t hold
the name of my master
My eyelids hold tears of selfishness, my need
My neck holds
voice i never had only in the presence of God
My name holds nothing but a
white mans burden
My shoulders hold the performance
of a well dressed nigger
My forehead holds no stress because
Georgina Margere Harris
have lived the life of poverty and mentally seeked
Freedom
Adorah Marlina Harris is a 2010 GirlSpeak editor.
