She was ten. Her mother, on her hands and knees, scrubbin' white folks' floors.
She thought, "This I cannot bear."
She was sixteen. Her brother strung up in a tree in a Mississippi swamp.
She thought, "This I cannot bear."
She was twenty six. Bus driver said, "Get to the back of the bus."
She thought, "This I cannot bear."
She was fifty. Daughter's son, child of an addict, killed in a drive by.
She thought, "This I cannot bear."
She was one hundred. In a wheelchair, she watched the returns.
She thought, "This, Sweet Jesus, this I can bear."
Ndinombethe.
15 comments:
Well done!
You are amazing!
wow. you know how to get to the bottom of it...
You never cease to amaze Lou...
Stunning.
i have chills.
wow.
love it! Very well done!
I don't know how you do it.
Amazing, hon!
You never cease to surprise me. That was so tender.
Lovely :-)
Wow. Beautifully done.
Well done. As always. You never cease to amaze me with your 100 words.
Beautiful. As always.
You are the "chosen" one. ;)
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