daily darkness
brightened by a dreary voice-
“The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of the night-”
A mother’s whisper
Silenced by superstition.
A mother’s whisper
Enraged by opposition.
memories of martyrdom
The Calypso carrying you home-
“The day is done,”
You told me how much you liked that poem.
How it couldn’t get out of your head.
You told me how much you hated them
I recall on my bed.
“and the darkness”
The weight on your back-
Burdens you confided in me-
words stuck in my throat
We are anything but free.
to proclaim a life for you-
I must lick the white man
“from the wings”
Paper.
Pen.
The world awaits praise-
As I begin to write
I can only see your gaze.
Burn
Burn
Burn
Your curiosity killed you.
It lit a fire in me.
of the night.”
-Shobhadevi Singh