This man, once on a
contract, but now dismissed
Sneaks around with my
birth right in his pocket
As if per chance he
really believes it to be his.
As if he believes that
Elizabeth Richmond,
Known to many as Mama
Liz, gave birth to him
His father, or his
mother so that he could now
Lay claim to that which
she sweated and cried over.
He lurks in the
shadows hoping for a listening air
To tell of how I
dismissed him “unfairly”,
As if that gives him
the right to walk around with my lineage.
My lineage stuffed in
his pocket along with gum wrappers, and supermarket receipts.
I wonder if he
understands that I would rather die than part with
Or allow anyone to
disregard the hard work of this woman, who raised many women…
To be strong, brave, and fearless.
Her blood flows
through me as thick, and undiluted as it flowed through her veins.
I am her child, she is
my mother.
Who does he think he
is?
Who has given him the right
to stuff me in his pocket;
To store me in
darkness and, dirt.
I shall take back what
is rightfully mine and I shall not sleep until I do.
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