She
A Poem by Ekaete Bailey
SHE
She was a cultural being
Could stretch the name of Yahweh
across her chest
tattooing herself a believer
She dwelt within black felt lines
And the Indian hemp sunrises
Spoke a little of her tribal language
But innately…
She could calm the eye of the storm
Simply by cupping it with both hands
She was a beast;
Yet still the fairest in the land
A lover of the Lion
In service of the Lamb
Itching away idiosyncrasies
From her mind’s satin surface
She was always digging for more
Scratching scabs, re-opening sores
Because sometimes
Only finger nails
can uproot legacy
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Ekaete Bailey to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.