what's it like to be free mama? '
the little slave girl asked her tired mother.
'What's it like to run around and play? ' she replied I don't know little one. '
but mama you were free once.
' Yes I was but that was many moons ago.
'Mama? ' Yes my little one.
' I'll be free one day right mama? '
Yes little one, you will, it will just take time.
but when you do you'll be as free as the wind blowing the changed leaves of every season.
'Mama? ' Yes. ' Im gunna be the wind? '
Yes, and be so free from all this tragity
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem