I need no one to remind me
I am an African woman
I have firm breasts and thick skin
I believe there is a God
I try not to be an hypocrite
I believed my parents loved me
I coin that in past tense for new disbelief
The choice the world chose
The one I regretted.
Hate met me at puberty
My tears in drought, ended longevity
I only wanted what I believed
Love, care, and attention
Not the treatment the doctor reluctantly gave
But that traced to interaction of even animals
To think my 16th birthday meant no more school
A life of isolation
I could not run far from melancholia
Hate my sleeping tongue, Mama
I never meant to be an apology.
I fought the cold hands of Give Up
I chose to mix up with children around me
I did not imagine I were a butt or clown
In pain did I attempt communicating
A struggling of engaging sign language
The laughter they issued, my eyes soaked
They walked away
They called me dumb
So I asked myself
Does dumb make me less a black woman?
I chose to answer yea.
© OKOCHA OBED