Dream Time

Come to me softly in the night, my child
Come to me in my dreams
Come to me when my tears subside
And night can claim its sleep

I left you awake
In the early morn
To hunt for your naming day
For the feast we had planned in the village
And skins for the drums we would play

I travelled further from home
Than I had ever been before
Because I wanted the best for you
I wanted the spirits to come

Mother...Sister..Daughter...

'If you should see me,
walking down the street,
mouth muffled
head low against the wind,
know
that this is no woman bent
on sacrifice
just
heavy
with the thoughts
of freedom...'

Jean Binta Breeze

(Picture: A Young Negro Woman, Theodore Gericault)