black woman blue

i went home yesterday and saw a book that my roommate was reading entitled black woman blue and i was inspired to write something by it. hence, the poem:

black woman blue

she sat there
tears rolling down her face
erasing
all of the misery
that she had encountered.
she was speechless-
nowhere to turn to,
no one to run to-
alone.
an ant in a world
full of lions.
she had been trampled upon.
her house had been shattered-
torn down,
in spite of all the work she had done
to put it together.
she was the queen,
ruler of all
at one point and time.
but now winter had come along-
was looking like the coldest winter ever;
like things just weren't
going to get any better.
and i sat there-
staring at her
while we rode the city bus together.
rosa parks-
she favored her.
had some of her same expressions:
exhausted
from what she had experienced,
determined
to ride away from her old life.
she had nothing
no baggage.
definitely not a "bag lady".
had heard songs
from Ms. Badu, I see.
and now everything
was homemade for her
because she was
starting from scratch,
trying to pull things together
in hopes that they
would turn out right.
her last recipe
was a sour one-
not so good;
a bloody steak
that was supposed to be well-done.
hence, she rode this bus.
she wiped her face,
wiped the tears away-
the raindrops that were cleansing her soul.
she tried to keep her composure.
whatever happened to her
had to be terrible.
she kept wiping her tears away,
wiping the raindrops away.
i smiled at her,
letting her know i felt her pain.
and then the thunderstorm began
again.