PORTRAITS OF A BLACK GIRL
A caged bird crawled into the liberty in her voice
She sang of home, of the wind, of freedom,
Of Maya, of Luther, of Mandela...
She looked into the sky & dared to fly, shine like the stars, rise like the sun and dance like the trees.
A girl somewhere on the street of Soweto
Sowed her pride on the soil of her skin
And watched it grow into a city of light,
Into the statue of a woman with black skin yet like the rays of the sun
And into the mystery that enigmatically catapults the colour, 'black', to the world's centre stage.
On her body are scars of poems scribbled by lustful men
Her soul carries the bruises from the punch of history
In her eyes is a cloud of uncertainty and the terror of slavery
And on her tongue are songs chained by race.
Still, she rise.
On silent nights when the sky is clad with unclad stars,
When moonlight reminds of a home long forgotten,
When the thoughts of loss giants makes the air sterile,
And the wind blew in dark whispers of their elegies
She is that harmonious sound reverberating in the hills and valleys of Africa.
With shadows crawling on walls,
Fierce ghosts trooping from the clouds,
Panthers casting dark reflections of their furs,
The mountains on fire & the seas breathing flames,
She is black and no frights can break her heart.