Rose Nmai
Member Since: 1 year ago
UNSPOKEN
Battles fought without hope, Treasures unkept, Times wasted, unaccounted for. Oh! Who will correct? A corrosive, corrupt era, Strangling the horridly honest, The disposed corpse of truth, A world led by the serpent’s tongue. Oh! Who will justify? Religion fashionably structured, A desecration unheard of. Days of sweet lies, Once pure, now nearly extinct. Oh! Who will cleanse? For our valuable culture, Now overpriced and unreachable, Sandwiched between dynamics and evolution. But is it worth it...
I wrote a poem about my coming-of-age as a young black woman and fighting to find myself and my voice in the world.
I grew up hearing tales of forefathers, Children of the Golden Land, they say. A place of history, of brave heroes and heroines who fought to bring freedom to my motherland. But the stories didn’t end there; there were tales of past generations, Ones who gave everything up to be in the white man’s shoes. The leathery goodness, shoes polished so brightly every morning you could see your future in them. But what future was it? It was one where daughters tended to the home, while sons left fo...
