From a small girl in South Africa circa 1983

Is your chin proud
My Lady?
Do your unseeing eyes
See things I cannot?
I know they do

Your warm hand took mine
So long ago
And I cried
For you, for me, for us all

I marvelled as a young child
At your adornments
Crying silent tears
For the injustices
That white skin brought to black
That money could only promise to salve

As a small child
I was carried on your back
And breathed your deep scent
Just as the brittleness
Of those and mine
Excluded me

Forgive them, ma tante,
For they are old
And they tried
But know

From a small girl in South Africa circa 1983

I carry you in my heart
In those times
In these times
And always
Power.
Always.