4 Ben
Red Self-Existing
Skywalker
Almost I can hear
My Soul walking –
She was crippled and lame
Limping, crying out –
Slouching toward Bethlehem
In Passion and Pain
So long separated from Splendor –
Spending hours cramped in
Crowded Places, guarded Spaces
Signs and Symbols shout –
Translating the Unconscious
Into Consciousness –
Crushing the overarching Power
Of the Patriarchy to miss the Point
entirely
Make young my Mouth –
Oh, walking Soul
Let us prance and dance with ease
Like a fat elm in a strong Breeze –
My Heart beats to the Rhythm of your
Stride.
©Kleomichele Leeds
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