In isolation he drank heavily -
And pretended the poison had not plagued
His body as he tumbled down another
Black road, giving expletives to tongue.
Inside a thicket of excuses
We hid, refrained from life's lexicon
And lied that we understood as the pit
Claimed his soul. Wet, we wear spiky crowns
And etched in hearts guilt, remorse and regret.
With no change, no hope, in the cotton fields
We left him, deserted. Abandoned he sank,
An exile branded a non-being
By society for being black.
Negligence perfumed, we cover the stench.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem