4 Ben
Red Self-Existing Skywalker
I can almost hear
My Soul walking –
She was crippled – lame
Limping about –
Slouching toward Bethlehem
In Grief and in Pain
Separated from Splendor –
Spending Days cramped
In over-crowded Places –
In small guarded Spaces
Signs and Symbols shout –
Translating the Unconscious
Into Consciousness –
Crushing the overarching Power
Of the Patriarchy
To miss the Point entirely
Oh, my waking, walking Soul – my Guide –
Let us prance and dance with Ease
Like fat elms in a strong Breeze –
My Heart beats to the Rhythm of your Stride.
©Kleomichele Leeds
©Kleomichele Leeds
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