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FOREMOTHERS
come
let us kneel
daughters of Lok-hay
grasp in our hands
the soil
of our land
breathe it in
smell the blood the toil
the saliva
the amniotic waters
that flow
in
under
ground streams
press your ear to the wind
hear the cries of our foremothers
know that they were
wild Women
spitfires
who hid sparks behind shuttered lashes
keeping passions
between locked knees
who waged the silent resistance
of a dinner uncooked
(Lok-hay was a runaway on the island of St, Martin who led the enslaved to freedom, conducted raids and was able to elude her captors until her death. Her hillside fire was a symbol of freedom)
