Wednesday, June 3, 2020


Serpent with wings
Whose ‘purity’ contaminates my vision
I am blind and He
He is my sight.
Does not sleepwalk through life
Does not lie on pillows of crushed velvet tears
These trees
A living witness
To the deafening silence
Of a culture eroded
A history maimed
Bodies unclaimed
Still holds me close
Collapsing on my skin
Wrapped around my legs
Maligning my darkened body
Falling over my indigenous soul
His guilt carried on the arch of my back
His fingertips could almost taste me
Is the crimson pool that bathes my ancestors
The injured tongue that imprisons my children
The pervasive eyes that cradle my mother
The superstitious mind that dethrones my legacy
Disavows, denies and disowns
This hollowed earth cannot hold his ego
Nor tame his tongue
Words cannot unteach his truth
His soliloquy is law
His privilege is might
He is blind
And now I,
I must be his sight.
Muna Abdi
© 2020