prod as you wish at my wounds
you’re daft to the idea
that I have
an overwhelming propensity
we’re made from a different fibre,
have different backbones,minds so resilient, you’d need to drag us on our faces to wear us to the back of our skulls before we give up.
our skin is melanin thick and will burn for days,
our bellies are used to fasting for periods longer than you wish to starve us.
our hands are callused and wrench like,
with endurance of kings of a land rich with elements,
elements we’re born from.
cut us, we’ll heal
burn us, we’ll heal
break us, we’ll heal
hurt us, we’ll forgive
because our bouquet breast exhumes a floral breath
of ancient humanness,
the type that you try to undress from us
make us naked and seem like savages in front of the world
but we’ll heal
we’ll heal and heal again and forgive
because that’s all we know how to do.
I wonder, in all of this, did you not learn how to do the same?