What happens to an African Mother?
Does she grow like grapes on vine to a produce sweet wine?
Or taste bitter disrespect of those who dis her potential and promise.
How does she recover the dignity and honor stolen from her?
Does she doubt and then replace her beauty with the gaze of those who harbor ill will?
Or forgotten in a reoccurring nightmare.
Like paradise lives outside of you
Maybe she looks in the mirror to reflect on a sunflower.
Like a mighty, mighty implosion of the exquisite
Or does she collide?