Our faces are bereft
Bereft of smiles and happiness
Our hearts are bereft
Bereft of love
White men, black Madonnas
In the shacks are our parents
We are the white babies that were raised high
Over a fire like a piece of meat
We are the white babies who became the brown babies
Freckles on our skin,
For our skins were discoloured
In a bid to hide their shame
Our mothers discoloured us
In a bid to prevent us from stigmatization
The shacks of our mothers
Were opened for sexually starved white men
Their moans bursting out of the shack
Reaching the high heavens
We are the product of moans
We are the product of their sexual escapdes
We are the voice crying to be recognised
We are as humans as the white skinned
We are tired of being segregated
We are tired of suppression
We are tired of worshipping God from outside the cathedral
We are tired of admiring the white men from afar.
We are the voice crying in the night
We will not be consoled till
We are free from apartheid
We are the Madonnas
Black women of South Africa
Our faces are bereft
Bereft of love and happiness
Our hearts are bereft
Bereft of love
White Madonnas, black Madonnas
Naked white Madonnas
Naked brown Madonnas
Naked white Men
Naked brown Men
We are no different
We are all bereft of one thing or the other.
Queen of light.
YOU ARE READING
Light poem collection
PoetryThis is a collection of different poems. I hope you love it.
