The knife I so thoroughly dug into the wood
The steel blade through which my hurt flowed
The wooden table wouldn’t take the pain
It split its skin like frayed hay, soaked in water
I fought to act out how you tore my spirit
Maybe in that I’d find escape
With your fingers, your hands, your ability
You laid hands on me, like a cow
You struck like an angry hen robbed of her chicks
You closed your ears to the screams
Of the meager good left in your wild, dark self
And Abasiama watched,
The offspring you named for God
Which God, WHICH GOD?
Is there one who teaches you to lie?
And cheat, and steal, and kill
Kill with cane, my strength
And kill with words, my soul
Which God, strange husband, which God?
Let water not soak your heart, for it’ll dry
Let knives not slice it, for it’ll heal
Let sticks not hit you, it’ll restore
Let thunder strike you,
Let fire burn you
And when those Children grow
Let them call you ‘father’ with twisted tongues
Let them call you ‘father’ with wrinkled faces
And you wish that I bear another?
God forbid, strange husband, God forbid
God forbid that those hard hands
Stained with my sores and my pain
Ever touch me
May thunder strike them before they can
May fire burn them
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