She is black, beautiful, full of potentials
yet weighed down by the mighty weight of African norms, to restrict her potentials from going beyond the four walls of the kitchen. She fights but in chains.
What will be her hope?
Savour this poem which I dedicate to every black woman who is passionate about unleashing her potentials.
Enslaved Fighter
Freed but not free
Aimed high but tied down
Racing like snail
Her feet couldn’t race beyond
Wailing “made for more”
“Made for Kitchen” they yelled
Her lips sealed
With cultured-tortured-norms
Norm from crippling fear
Shackled yet free
When will she a fighter win?
Reminiscing the confusion
That soothes and lures comfort
Living inside a beautiful threat
If she should accept a temporal appeal
This dead appeal
Can’t give wings to her dreams
Faith, fragile
Hopes, chopped
Fighting in chains
Chains of norms and words
Though slow but furious
Is this her journey’s tale?
The storm may linger
This girl lingers on
Upon this dream lane, untill
Tears and wishes turn joy
Her daily pleas turn praise
She will live her dream
Maybe not soon
Even if breathless amidst oxygen
Her kind will live her dream
Unrelenting, tenacious
This ‘enslaved fighter’ wins!
Read also: A Poem On Rape; “Fears And Valor”
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