THE BLACK SAVIOUR

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Poured into a slickly creamy soft mound,
A silhouette born with the wealthiest lakes and running rain forests of Africa,
The black saviour -
Praise for the black woman,
Thoughts rumbling,
Of the mystery of the power of the black girl-deity
Of the miracle of her birth: supernatural
The galactic arrangement of the heavens rolled out for her majesty
her armament surviving ages of odds in the life of the black female
black power mightier than a full regimental division of armed males
A ghetto queen bred in the deepest abyss of the inner city
A special delta force to save all of mankind
her gospel of love echoing from the wilderness
of penury to hallways lit with chandeliers
her aura is contagious
as the sun that thaws layers of chronic patriarchal debilitation
Healing portion to the world
her passionate touch pierces through the fabric of cultural paradigms,
Then she appeared in the beauty pageant of life
steals the show with her unnatural persona of kindness
her love wash over her children, breaking down the grim of societal proclivities
the perfect model of a messiah
you give your life for an unconditional faith in your babies: un-comely and grotesque
To a beauty so effective to cancel out all human imperfections and ills
Adorn in a glistering silhouette apparel
her embodiment is the most gorgeous work of art
her feet digs and stand sure come hell or high water
her entire life of sacrifice is the ultimate index of tomorrow's sustainability
Leaving her heavenly home to a forlorn earth,
She leaves her riches to become poor in her matrimony with family life
To be subject to tradition and restriction that subjugate her
Hide her... maim her
she freely gives up her right
so that all would be free to live
Forsaking her throne where mighty angels serve as orderlies
and braids her hair in the glory of the most intricate African hairdos
Yet she holds on to her cause for an incomprehensible salvation
to be nailed by hard labour
Speared daily by ostracism, sexual abuse and domestic violence,
Sweat frantically grips her body in the whippings
from the blight of the harsh tropical weathers
The seasons robbed her of yesteryears supple youthfulness
plunges her into dark old alleyways of stress-induced disease, loneliness and nervous breakdown,
She loves still as if naive to the injustice of the black girl-child
Her resolve is steel, nurturing her babies by moonlight parables and words of assurance
In the end she's called witch, ugly, harlot and gutted with strips of persecution
Further stripping her of dignity
A martyr she died for the cause she believed in: her man and her babies,
Spreading her rare illogical rainbow of love over them -
even when they stabbed at her heart everyday
She still hung on to display her ever dependable devotion to her family
She performs wonders with her dishes - economic depression or not.
A tree everyone plucks
Everyday the thin wisps of breathe
in her sun-bleached body escapes -
via orifices beclouded in the frontiers of religious, social and mental patriarchy
Then it finally comes -  the divine hour
down the valley of spiritual travails
she stumbles on marauders that quickly fasten her to a crucifix
Her tired body torn
pulled apart in an eagle-spread manner
violated to a piece of unrecognizable pulp
Piercing words like daggers clutching to her heart
For these the girl-child was made to be loved and celebrated
Be worshiped.

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