I Long to Soliloquize in my Mother Tongue
There is a space after the last period,
Where love ends and lust begins,
Where peace ends and wars begin,
And I long to soliloquize in the language of the land.
Gathering the remnants of my last thoughts,
Those that were,
Those that never survived the light of day,
The ones born at dawn and slaughtered at dusk.
But there is only room for one in the tomb
Yet my dreams,
Dreams of a black girl,
Dreams of the black,
Dreams of the dark continent
Squeeze in the grave of fear.
But there is only room for one.
And sometimes when I am alone,
I long to soliloquize in the language of my mother.
Image: Laurie Cooper