May I Tell You the Story of a Family Feared?
May I tell you the story of a family feared?
Deep in the south
In the backwoods
Past the lightning-split boughs
Yes, the broken down trees
Where the earth has churned anew from destruction
Here there are black bodies
Yes, black joy bright as the skin of a star
They are one with the trees you see?
No? A people born from the roots that bear sweet fruit
And raised in it’s arms and leaves
Are they gods? Well, I don’t know
They’re old enough to be
Dark piths regenerate
But eyes always green
Oaky black seeds
Living like kings in the house at the end of the road
No! Far past the road
Where it’s overgrown with willow’s shame and fuss
Hair like cotton or fairy floss
Some seem to take the sun in their skin
Shining golden like autumn’s last leaves
Some seem to strap the sun to their backs
So dark they’re almost purple
African violet winks from their fingertips
Oh me? Personally, I’ve never seen them
Remnants of kingdoms forgotten
Transplanted in a land that did not know enough to bow
But I’ve heard the stories
same as everyone else
From old blind women no one believes
Atira C. © 2020. All rights reserved.
