Her arms lift fire
Beyond the edge of earth.
The winds sweep
Her feet;
Distant sounds
Rhythm the night.
She is a Degas dancer
Abandoned
To her gift.
She drinks in the wealth
Around her—
The mango head-dress.
Ebony skin chalked white
By the village mill.
The communal hymn
Sung while harvesting
The water.
Hope falls softly
Around her
Dangling.
Her resilience
Salutes the sun's wrath.
She astonishes.
She’s a child
Innocent
Lunging laughter
Flinging faith
Trusting
Someone
Somehow...
Africa.
No comments:
Post a Comment