Scribbles

Disposition of a battered woman, Rightness of a woman uncherished, You have endured, you have survived. Still you wait. For that redeemer who will not die, For that saviour who will not come. “Die!” you urge “Leave us!” you beg To a life anew, A life renewed. Where lays this elixir that gives you life? This elixir that keeps you amongst us? Take me to it; Let me pour your life out, Let me free dreams, beckon freedom. Heal the wounds you have left opened, Patch the pockets that lay ripped in the wake of your reign. That sneer that patch, That doctor’s fix. That anger in your eyes, that resentment, That pharaoh of my people. What colour that makes you charge? That white that makes you gnash, The yellow you envy the black you seek to destroy. Let them destroy you, Let them come for you. Let me see you flee, “Go!” I charge To a place faraway, A place I have not seen, A place they lock us from “Leave!”