La femme de couleur
Borrowed mother’s voice,
To pay tribute.
My aria ricochets.
Have the dark clouds been banished?
Are you dreaming of delicious blackberries?
Has my song ransomed me?
A dutiful daughter,
I am a parody of an echo.
These legacy chains bind me,
silken sisterly knots,
stirring soup in cast iron pots
to feed the ‘strongmen, as they keep coming.’
Merely, a ‘mule of the world’
constructed by colonial circumstance
laboring, loving, enduring and dreaming.
Copyright by Sherley Jean-Pierre
iamsherleyfierce 