Harriet Tubman


It is in this context that I breathe
I am released to function the dysfunction
I am massaged to appease the whipper's hand
And every time I feel that thundering hit
I breathe again

No strike is a quitter's victory
Because I still triumph when the protesters begin
I am the end of a tied knot
So the whipper's hand shall strike to break me free

I take not the resolution
I yield to the problem
I answer to nothing but equal
I don't weaken because of the numbers they bring against me
I grow stronger by the count that falls beneath me
They are the ones who build my army

It is in this context that I breathe
Released to piece together the dismantled
Soothed to alleviate the uprising
Blinded to orchestrate my disappearance
Bandaged to cover up the whipper's hand
But it is in this place where
I breathe again.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem