MEMORIES

 

Memories of Innocence,

Lost,

Of times when Happiness

meant chocolate from abroad...

Wonder was the tales of lands unseen,

And pain,

Was but a pin drop.

 

 

 

 

Poems By Dominica

Enigmatic Dynamic

 

She sat there, beautiful, rich

the quintessential, upper class,

modern Parisian mother,

her $500 bracelet dangled casually from her well manicure hands.

She gracefully sat there,

as she lovingly encouraged her godchild to eat,

so full of love,

She sat there - a true servant of God,

a Wonderful mother.

 

Then, she faced me, Black me.

Me, Black, Guest sitting across her,

watching her, in her kitchen.

Me, black before person,

Me, black before human.

Though, I, Guest before Black,

asked if I could help.

She mistook me, for black,

black servant, not guest

so instead, she growled,

and turned from beautiful to ugly,

she barked,

telling me to do the dishes.

I, black before guest,

was shocked,

but polite before black,

obliged, cleaned her dishes,

and left the room,

with its enigmatic dynamic.