I keep a million little hearts for you - Black man;
Forever condemned to navigate cotton floors with wooden boots.
I watched the cloud you fell through,
And extended my dress
intending to catch you.
I was soundless at your nails in my arms,
As you stumbled to form a statue.
My dress is now torn into pieces resembling you,
Satin fabric stained by your foot.
I did not mind the brown washed mark,
You know I could do all things for you.
Yet you could watch Zenani be raped,
You could make Tumelo run away,
You could kill our mother's faith;
ignoring every swollen blue face.
Maybe next time you fall through the clouds,
I will watch without a sound,
and hope you are met with a toothless shark.
We are dying,
You see it too.
Yet you stroll over our bodies,
imagining our tufts of hair
to be patches of grass.