Woman is Art 2019 Copywrite Isha Mckenzie-Mavinga Dear Father 2020
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Invisible
They lean across my desk
They stand beside me
They ask someone else
They ignore my request
They take it off the agenda
They try to convince me
They say it’s my problem
They arrive after me
They stand in front
They cue behind me
They get served first
They turn their backs
They want to shake hands
They gave children guns
They stole my lands
They wounded my heart
They tortured my body
They blinded my heritage
They made the trail bloody
They show their tears
They want compassion
They carve their smiles
They follow fashion
They misinterpret my words
They don’t want my opinion
They wear their guilt
They can’t see I am broken
They fail to hear me
They want me silenced
They shrink away
They call my power violence
They invite challenge
They leave me on the frontline
They include me when
They want a token
They say show me how
They have their problems
They want it written
They don’t want it spoken
They come for my soul
They have already taken
They want me the same
They make me different
They want to be conscious
They want to do it right
They want me visible
They want me out of sight
Isha Mckenzie-Mavinga Oct 2002
They lean across my desk
They stand beside me
They ask someone else
They ignore my request
They take it off the agenda
They try to convince me
They say it’s my problem
They arrive after me
They stand in front
They cue behind me
They get served first
They turn their backs
They want to shake hands
They gave children guns
They stole my lands
They wounded my heart
They tortured my body
They blinded my heritage
They made the trail bloody
They show their tears
They want compassion
They carve their smiles
They follow fashion
They misinterpret my words
They don’t want my opinion
They wear their guilt
They can’t see I am broken
They fail to hear me
They want me silenced
They shrink away
They call my power violence
They invite challenge
They leave me on the frontline
They include me when
They want a token
They say show me how
They have their problems
They want it written
They don’t want it spoken
They come for my soul
They have already taken
They want me the same
They make me different
They want to be conscious
They want to do it right
They want me visible
They want me out of sight
Isha Mckenzie-Mavinga Oct 2002