She walks in stride, quickly with head
Held high. The glistening, of her face
As beautiful as the black night.
Her smile, as bright as the African
Diamond. Deep into her heart, love
The world, will not get to know her.
She glides, along the walkway. Deep
In thoughts, of other worlds' conception of her
Often times, misunderstood for a fault,
The native world clamors from the ancient
Lands of her birth.
Not knowing, she wonders past. The beckoning
Of the motherland. The cry of the mother-
Land. The pride of her existence and essence.
The bearer of her fruits. The caresses of her
Soul and life.
The possessor of the peace and tranquility
Of her dreams.
Her ebony beauty, the essence of her true
World. The gift of her future. The soul of
The life of her spirit... The ebony tears.
Copyright (c) 1996 Paul S Hickman All Rights Reserved
Paul S. Hickman from Greece - Read Paul's Bio
Register to vote at www.votefromabroad.org.