She sat at the table looking at the little black kings and queens, celebrating together one turning 3. Enjoying freedom and her hard earned money
Suddenly his red-face towered over them
His stance dismissing their very existence
Girded by centuries of lies that he, because of his paleness, was ‘the one’, the organ between his legs, the crown
Hurling abuse at Her
Propped up by his ancestors sitting on the bones of all Her ancestors who for centuries lost their lives, their loves, their land to his.
His misplaced anger and abuse raining on her children
She stood up fierce.
Lioness protecting her cubs
Propped up by the spirits of all Her ancestors
She who birthed civilization refusing to let her children be erased
When her calm words
Fell on deaf ears
And he vomited obsenities
She spat back his words – would not stand down
(It’s 2017, for heaven’s sake!! And this is MY land.)
Her rage, channeling the rage of so many –
Hitting back in his own words because men like him know no other way
Standing up, so her children know not to be spat on!
Taking back the bones of her ancestors,
Breaking down the lies that prop him up.
Breathe my sister, breathe!
Warrior woman, breathe!
22 March 2017