A Song For Sally (and the thousand other slave girls like her)

Virginia is a cruel place–
all you could hear 
	was the weeping of separated mothers
all you could see 
	was the miles of unpicked labor 
all you could taste 
	was the iron from biting your fleshy cheek
all you could smell 
	was the rotting of the hanging tree
all you could feel 
	was the searing of deep whipped gashes 

But you, my matriarch,
your dark face shines 
and your yellow teeth glisten
like the blazing sun above.
Like this nightmare is not happening.
Why is it your soft smile 
never drops?
Not even a falter,
as you’re forced 
to be a mule for a man
who you don’t even know his name.

But you, my Sally, 
are still someone’s little girl.
Your heart never left 
the Western Sahel,
and the sandy shore 
where you once caused mischief,
and the village school
where you gossiped with the girls
and the tribal square, 
you love to dance in 
and the strict elders
you stuck your tongue at,
and the cute hunter boy,
you fell in love with
and the quilted scarf 
you made under mothers guidance.

They all wait for your return,
but your return will never come, 
and they will all die wondering when 
they will see that sweet sanguine girl 
again.  

Do you smile to assure me 
we will return again? 

I know it fills you with rage 
my matriarch,
my Sally.
I want you to burn it all down,
make them pay 
for what they took from you.
Scream.
Weep. 
Gnash.
Bite. 
Give them a sneak peak of what Hell 
will be like for them.
Do something, 
my Sally.

I can’t bear that sickening smile you wear
as you silently count the days 
to when all you can hear
	is the lulling of Mama Wati
all you can see
	is the cute boy smiling down the aisle 
all you can taste 
	is the soft, gooey cassava stew
all you can smell 
	is the musty books of the schoolyard
and all you can feel 
        is death's sweet embrace. 

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