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Political Picnic (poem)

no picture Amara B. Waseem
Member since May 30, 2018
  • 1 Post
  • Age 17

i roll up a rug and carry it on my back for the picnic.

a picnic with sandwiches of the truth

in a rich brown bread

encrusted by beautiful brownness

of flavourful fillings.


i sit on a rug beside a group of revolutionary spirits

rug weaved by the strong threaded sisterhood

third eyes awake to our Third World cultures

angering minds and flourishing intelligence

each mind, alike, seated on a throne of a brighter future

far from restraint.


i opened the neatly packed bun of my sandwich

and inside was a burnt piece of meat

dropping flecks of colonial history

and

poverty

and

corruption.

i reached my hand in to remove the meat

and my hands soaked up red,

blood trickled:

the red blood cells carried subjugated history textbooks,

the white blood cells fought for liberation.


a slice of cheese,

a catalyst of strength.

the milky undertones imbue power.

a body holds itself together like a fence,

sailing towards a stronger tomorrow.


the patterned lettuce reminding me of

thick accents and hands of henna,

a fold hiding

the preservation of identity.


at last came the cake.

a glazed cake tasting sweet,

it was the taste of freedom.

Amara B. Waseem





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