It’s been so long
Dust has gathered over kaptor’s key
As if paralyzed
Stuck in a box beside my shoes
There’s no logo on this lid
Just six digits
I checked the tag
It’s a price warriors bled
Over land and altars
Spirits splish upon African tongue
In the mist of resistance
Before kursed eyes
Those of my continent’s daughters
Outside lines of man-made laws
I draw the lessons
Lessons learned in a royal substance
Hemoglobin
A full grown beast
I sit at the kill
As God
Very well I know the intricacy
That of our history
My relative’s son’s blood
That stain my insoles
Below cherry laces
Torture
