Untitled (to the African Child that is never heard)
In the vast
of her
emptiness
she sits
with
welly eyes
on
a cold hard
pavement.
Silently-
uncontrollably
she weeps-
involuntary
tears.
On her skin
are stripes
of moments
in her life-
raw moments
overshadowing
the ripe moments-
leaving behind
a path of pain
well marked
upon her face.
no one cares
to even stop,
look
and notice her.
no one
cares to lend
an ear-so
she just
weeps
and weeps
and weeps.
(Dedicated to little Roselyn-i noticed)
of her
emptiness
she sits
with
welly eyes
on
a cold hard
pavement.
Silently-
uncontrollably
she weeps-
involuntary
tears.
On her skin
are stripes
of moments
in her life-
raw moments
overshadowing
the ripe moments-
leaving behind
a path of pain
well marked
upon her face.
no one cares
to even stop,
look
and notice her.
no one
cares to lend
an ear-so
she just
weeps
and weeps
and weeps.
(Dedicated to little Roselyn-i noticed)
Comments
You are quite a guy robyn.
This is poetical and very, very deep. Each word grips you around the collar and make you feel her pain. Bravo!
u know most of us have this inner african child in us...... if only someone would notice us
Why do we do the things we do to make such angels weep...
how are you sweets?
Beautiful, melancholy poem this one is...Roseyln is lucky to have you notice her tears...
I'm going to stop venting I swear!
Very moving dear x
overshadowing
the ripe moments"
this is deep and beautiful. the african child needs a voice, this is the beginning.