[a poem, by Sha’Tara]
Innocence, what is that,
that anyone should care?
What does it produce
but chatter and silliness?
Innocence, how wasteful
of a life in need of direction.
We are here, we are here,
bring the child to our doors,
we’ll take her from here.
We’ll mold her character
and teach her the Way.
Innocence flew off
frightened by the noise,
the angry words, the tears,
the blows that fell upon
that soft helpless flesh.
Farther and farther it circled,
rising up to the windows:
finding a broken pane
it slipped out and flew away.
On the cement walk
three floors below
the old school yard
a small body lies
battered, bloody, dead.
Innocence has broken out,
free at last, and happy
once again laughing
among the blue and the white
where the free winds blow.
What price freedom?
Don’t ask why: you know
there was no better way.
Your verses awaken thoughts and emotions; great poetry as far as I am concerned. ~ Régis
Thanks for the great comment, Regis.
Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.
Thanks for the reblog, Mr. MN.
My pleasure as always Ms. Sha’Tara. Have a wonderful weekend. Be well & stay safe.
So much BAM. And OUCH. In so little.
my dear Sha’Tara
emozioni forti che muovono al pianto e alla vergogna.
sherawithlove
Thank you, Phil.
Thank you for your comment, Shera. That was my intent. I was thinking about many things, but particularly how the education system destroys innocence and graduating students are little more than “factory output” programmed to serve and profit the corporations.
I agree Tha’shara. Thanks again.
Shera 💙💚💛
Ops
Beautifully sad
Thanks Roger. For more and more, freedom will only be found in death of the body. Earth: graveyard of innocence and more more that is good.