After reading Desert Flower by Waris Dirie and recalling her story from one time or another, I can’t help but clench my knees, feel imaginary pain because of fear and die inside because of how women can be caved and weakened in the African Society.
My Candid Words…
The Woman in Africa!
Not vivid enough due to the thick dust in the air but I can see her.
I can feel the weight in her heart through her eyes.
Her drained hope through every edge of her protruding bones.
The dry tears that are now patterns on her face.
Patterns of her fate.
The undying fate that cages her.
She has been trained to believe.
Believe that her life is not hers but the community’s.
The unlettered community that steals her sacredness.
Belittles her crown of purpose.
Scoops off her only cushion of real intimacy with a sharp razor blade .
And rule her life to the point of death.
Her strength is felt through her survival.
As she walks through the dry land towards me,
Her tattered dress is drenched with blood down under.
She strives to live.
To live for her children and the ignorant old reckless husband.
She is weak but she is strong.
She desires to struggle so that she does not slumber.
If she slumbers, she is disowned.
Disowned as a woman in Africa.
A woman of struggle and strength.
The Woman in Africa!
Happy Reading 💚
Desert Flower
