Inside her soul: echoes II

Inside her soul: echoes II

unmade beds,
dirty clothes,
the stench of yesterday’s garbage
in my nose
and my man wonders why
i don’t love him
no more
well, he should read this poem
she’ll speak of my grief
of how I
toss and turn
toss and turn
wondering why
why?
HE took me
from the afric’s shore
i died that day
you shackled me with your shame
violated
my ancestral rite
of chastity
only to label me
i need purity
so I rise every morn
before the SON
to make the beds
to wash the clothes
to try and remove
the stench of garbage from my nose
noon time comes
all to soon
back broken
flesh weary
babies sold for a small sum of gold
at night
i conversate with the moon
hoping he will
give me direction
and I pray for
the resurrection
of me
pray for the day
your love no longer enslaves me
pray for the day when echoes of the past no longer haunt me…