Mitta Xinindlu Poems

Because I'm a Black Woman:
They don't see me;
They don't believe me;
They don't give me a fair trial;
...

How can you not appreciate the beauty in your black skin?
Why do you misjudge its value?
Your skin neither cracks nor burns underneath the sun.
Your skin compliments its rays; and in its heat, you stun.
...

I'm a writer who heals.
I nurse the wounds of others through my messages.
My words are ointments, bandages, and massages.
My paper is a bed for wounded souls.
...

I stepped out of the box
because I'm a woman who breaks locks.
I break glass ceilings too;
the sky knows my flair, boo.
...

I'm writing you a poem;
but the lights will soon be out in five minutes.
Wow! I'm writing it in foreign;
so, I hope you'll embrace the intention of the syntax.
...

Every underdog has a right to be heard.
Women are underdogs in a man's world.
Children are underdogs in the adults' world.
Let's not even discuss the issues of race, religion, disability, and sexuality.
...

NOBODY taught me how to swim.
So, I swam and followed the rivers,
hoping that I'd end up in the ocean; the calm seas.
To see some dolphins and the colourful fish.
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The body of a woman 
belongs only to her,  
and not to any man.
...

There is a mountain placed before us.
It's wide, big; high above the clouds.
With no way around it;
no choice about it.
...

We're sitting on a hill,
reminiscing about our deeds.
These are mesmerising moments of ease;
scenes are harmonising in keys.
...