The Visage of Thought: Part 4

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The Hand From The Sky Chose Me

I am planted, pick me out from the ground and see the phenomena. I am a warrior formed from yellow woods that sucked sweet waters from Mother Nature’s breasts, and she said to me “You are a star”.

So I will stand here, vivaciously, tenaciously and let it be known that no stick or stone dare break my bones. I am covered by the sun, her light pours unto me. This woman is on the run, no one stop her in her track. She will stand with her poetry and prose to remind the world of love again.

Slowly rip the bandaids of pain away, soothe your sorrows with hope.Tell them of a freedom that will dry the wetness from their eyes.

Dear sister, come with me. Let us live fearlessly.

 I’ve ripened, pick me out.

Prose by Kea Mooka

Photo by Sameera Soorjee Photography