Crippled and Questioning!
About the strength of a woman, about the plight of the African child and the struggle for their voice to be heard in fast male dominated developing world.
Dashing and dazzling.
Rags, filth and drooling?
Confident and straight,
Hopeful, waiting and bent.
Walking, confident and coherent?
Crawling, imploring, visibly apparent.
The sight of a life,
The walk of a life.
She sways on the ground,
The hard coal-tarred road of the African soil,
Wading to keep pace to her destination.
Her skin deep tanned from the sublime heat,
Her feet raised…
She walks not in the air,
But more she desires.
Accustomed to the stare, she “walks” on.
She sways on the ground.
The coloured earth of the coloured continent,
Dressed in the fashion deemed of every woman,
Her face hopeful of the day…
Her face hopeful for that day.
As men walked seemingly undistracted,
Pacing fast and strong,
She pulls her legs forward to her “stand”.
She sways in the dust,
The dust of dirt and mud.
Humid moist and raining,
She paddles betwixt feet;
…feet of men, men no more,
…feet of men who watches on,
…feet of men who barely hopes.
She takes the world head-on.
Watching, but I could barely stare.
Lost sometimes in the thought,
Thoughts to the essence of life.
Always pointing to this,
I figure, is the essence of life?
Toiling, working and waiting,
In hopes of creating and changing
The question that presently lingers.
She sat on the sidewalks,
With a face bold and hopeful.
She looks to men impossible,
With a face undeterred and watchful.
Her dark skin portraits her beauty.
She carried her woman in dignity,
Even in misery, she waits
In hope for the break.
Will I at the day’s end
Forget this face,
To paddle in the ocean of men,
Walking unseeingly undistracted?
Will I provide the courage
To the African child,
Who battles in the face
Of men, men no more?
I cannot forget her face.
For when I do,
A question unanswered.
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