Poetry: Growing in parable
The meaning of life lies within individual struggle.
When I say crick - you say crak - crick? .....crak!
As a black woman in this society,
You’re like a tree bound to grow under toxic soil.
You begin by flaring your branch to watch your leaves grow,
And as your leaves continue to grow,
You then realized that the soil you stood on is hidden from light.
The light you need for enlightenment,
The light you need to grow,
Is the same light that makes you dark.
You now sit and wondered,
Why has the rain fall and gone,
And yet your branches have not produced a fruit.
You prayed for wind & sunlight,
But never realized that the toxic soil you stood on;
Prevented your branches from being nourished,
With the knowledge of sunlight you need to produce a fruit.
So you go about your life waving the wind,
In a world where time stands still,
Waiting for better days to come,
While your roots rotting alive.
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