linger in my head today,
of a time not experienced
of a poem not felt
of a crime not endured
and yet, I feel connected
somehow, as if,
my heritage has been
like that of an animals
and I know what to do
when the day's work is done
and what the morning brings
without no rain
or fan to cool
or tools to erase what
fools we all were; still,
the resentment has
worn thin as if purchased old
instead of new and
curlers fashion our mind
in layers of shame
that must be worn
until all the names of
those who did this are
forgotten or abandoned.
3Oct14
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