What does one do with
a wingless bird, waddling
away into dreams unheard of?

How to respond to
a soundless scream, drifting
awake into deep dark dreams?

Where does one run
for help, when bloody hands reach
for your shirttail from a deep dark well?

Who is the groom saying “How dee
do?” Why must I tell him, “I am tired, I
am well?

When did your mother groom
your hair before the mirror? How come your father’s eyes
were dry when he handed you over?

What will you say when
you become a mother, to the newborn baby without
a father?

Wingless baby bird, fly prematurely without
a scream
Though your bloody hands on the ground
Reach into the well of dreams to claw out
A groom who will promise you a future
Of a perfect family-
Mother father son and daughter…

– Shanese “Sabali” Whyte 20/10/14
Like the poem? Try da one yah.

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