I'm sorry, to the tiny doe
blonde and white,
mistaken for the goat
who would be sacrificed at sunset
for the next tribal dinner
that never took place.
I'm sorry, for the secrets
my ancestors buried
in shallow graves
flooded by the tears of
mothers of murderous sons.
I'm sorry, for the abomination
for the horror that wrought
silence
instead of screams
which were turned…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Write With Spirit to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.