Ancestral spirits – Queen

Queen           –              by Steve Reid

I can’t stop trembling.

Captured, bounded, dragged.

Rawness, blood, shrills.

She and her swollen belly thrown to wide waters.

I bleed, yet the beast is upon me.

Laughter, ridicule, my scorn… no ease,

uwā, uwā, uwā.

Man child gouge them eyes.

Sold! Sold?

The beast is upon me… again

What am I?

I want to be… I was… Queen

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