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Monday, February 9, 2015

Dreadlocks

They swung
like dreadlocks.
Underneath
thousands of falling suns.
Hundreds of limp bodies
dripping from poplar trees
casually ballroom dancing
with the wind.

Frozen in time
and space;
in fear and relief.

Despair braided
deep in their spines
like death had the hands
of African mothers.

They left US their bones
to use as stepping-stones.

So We swung
like dreadlocks.
Underneath
thousands of rising suns.
Hundreds of brawlers
unflinchingly spilling blood
like water on the seeds
of family trees.

Frozen in time
and space;
in love and faith.

Hope braided
deep in their spines
like God had the hands
of African mothers.

We will happily leave behind
OUR bones to use as
stepping-stones.

© Sulē Cerdan 2015

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