Sunday, July 4, 2010


We are the results of letters unfinished
When someone immortalized an idea, etchings on paper
Hands cuffed in mid-word

We were born to only half the story
Blaming someone else for telling our history
And we go to fight once in a while
But we stop and think maybe we should sing instead of our stinking present and the blinging future we would like to have

For the worst words we could have heard were the truncated hand-me-downs of leaders cut down in their prime

Once proud baobabs over whom the woodcutter stands, axe in hand, black mask on black face blackface and past and present and no future and emergence of us
The generation whose senses have been lulled by shiny things and skinny people

We are the results of books unread
Because anything that does not bring immediate gratification is not worth our quick-time texting apple-software instant-messaging quicker-than-fast-food moments

We are the children who were not taught to pause
Never stopping
And now we will not fight because we have not used that pause to think things over
Our tongues run over words quicker than you thought we could say them

We will leave you the hearer of words unsaid
We are after all the results of wisdom unheard
Comforters of tears unshed
fighters in a war
That will not fight itself
Murderers of the silence that only wanted to scream



Bloody knife in hand
Heart racing faster than I have been running all my life

You are dead
And I am your child, the survivor
Of patience unfulfilled
Demons not exorcised
I am the result of that letter you did not finish

By:Annette Quarcoopome© MILEAD Fellow 2009/2010

No comments:

Post a Comment

Violence against women is a worldwide yet still hidden problem. Freedom from the threat of harassment, battering, and sexual assault is a concept that most of us have a hard time imagining because violence is such a deep part of our cultures and lives.