Child of the Horse Eaters

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I am a horse eater

I am dungeon seed

my pantheon divided

6/10’s  on the other side

of the water 4 generations

walk after crossing

the graveyard in the ocean

exiting doors of no return

I have not returned

in flesh

spirit is more stubborn

memory is everything

then it is more

it is life before life

illumination

in a time of dark lamps

a map leading you

a reason

the way out of no way

it is horse meat cooked

served eaten to hold on to

land sweated bled for

we ate the horses

we kept the land

we had teaspoons in a

land of bulldozers

we used our spoons

used stones to plug

the hole in the bucket

that was only half

full of water in the

first place we

grew out of the land

like promises tumbleweeds

on route 66 on trains west

looking for dreams

dreamers with teaspoons

carving the path they

walked on walking away

sometimes

when it melted sometimes

daring to fight sometimes

sometimes

able to rise

from the battle field

whole enough to know

how to win

stop fighting

taking the loss moving migrating

fleeing refugees with a teaspoon

and buckets with holes

the memory of the taste

of horse flesh pushing

us forward with hope

on our breath

About Ayodele Nzinga, MFA, PhD

I create; therefore I am.
This entry was posted in artist scholar, Black Arts, North American African Perspective, Poetry, The Horse Eaters and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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