And she cries into the sea
that will someday bring her
ashes home

And she sings a song of feedom
that her people brought here
a long long time ago

And she washes her blood from the
tile — like the river, it has also
traveled for miles

And in the fresh day
she mends — their socks, a button
her heart

And she draws back the curtains to let in
the light that still stings her
near swollen eye

And she smiles with a calm
because God is her rainbow at the
end of each storm

You may break a woman’s bones
but never her spirit…
At least not for long

Copyright 2012 © Mika Maharaj


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