It’s hard to believe your smile
When you tread the earth
Like fingers of a pianist on the saddest notes of a broken song.
When you back the sun
and the snubbed appeals of the wind caressing your black skin
I see drunken walls of a conquered empire falling.
Make up was your beautiful mask
That cowardly keeper of the borders of the Aegean sea in your eyes.
When I trace the betraying veins
on your temple
to the secret war in your heart
With you straining vainly on the leash of hopelessness
I chew greedily on the rumours of downpour reaching for the fallowed
plain of my shoulders thirsty for rain.
While I pace towards you for an embrace
I’ll mutter to heaven
that my poetry echo your woes unspoken
and not your words spoken that cried,
“They said I’m just a woman.”
– Martins Deep