Greater Than the Sum

Location

African -

I am an over one-thousand-year old toil

Basking under the golden sun

From which those northerners recoil;

Through savanna, through jungle, through desert I run.

Long before they gave me a fork

I was free to roam, and free to love Pangea.

Soon after she split, they brought me to work

Through bound body and leadened idea.

They thought shackles would hold me, I’d swallow my bit,

That for me liberty was too grandiose.

I proved tougher than they thought fit

And they severed me from brother and sister, whose

Faces I never saw but loved anyway.

For years, for them I tilled the field.

My begrudging affection for this land grew day by day,

But my masters could not make me my memories yield.

Through time and space and oceans below

My love stretched, and thoughts dwelled

On a motherland I could never know.

And in me indomitable pride swelled.

They saw this, they heard this, and they knew

My manacles were a temporary fixture.

Then, finally, I was delivered unto

This new world free. I entered the mixture.

 

-American

I am a three-hundred-years-old fight,

Consigned to my declaration, my stripes, my stars.

I am a weariness of despotic kings, a champion of the right

To Liberty, an usurper, a harbinger, ender of wars.

It began with a promise. To this land

They fled and filled and used, and I was born.

Whilst over time and overseas came the brand

To mark us his, until the happy green and distant relatives looked forlorn.

We each bore it. We talked, but we bore it.

We hated our shallowing pockets, but learned to smile.

We pondered autonomy, and there was a pang – we ignored it

Until that final imposition, however small, was so vile

That blue was our color, and red theirs, and white

The goal. So we fought for the abstract notion.

We fought for something noble, and they, not quite,

And so they died as we lived – with unfettered devotion.

Oh, how that silly cloth swayed over land won

With blood, earned by sweat, and bought with gunpowder.

Nonetheless, tales of its triumph were sung

And echoed through the centuries even louder.

Today, I stand, a link in an infinite chain,

Beckoning unto the strong, the weak,

The ambitious, to denounce their restraints,

To kiss the soil of the home for the brave, bold, and meek.

 

Woman.

I am a decades-old struggle to be known

By my merits, not judged by my ovaries,

To be assessed by my deeds, not whether or not I’m alone,

Or infinitely doubted because of the child I may carry.

Wherever I go, they know my name.

In their homes, I am worshipped and used,

Feared and loathed. To them it’s all the same,

Simply because he was arbitrarily refused

The gift of Life. And some miracle. What a gift,

They say, What beauty, they say, and yet,

It tears me in half and sets the parts adrift

Until if it’s me versus him – don’t even take the bet.

But I found my voice. I sniffed it out

Between the pages of a forbidden book.

In unison, my sisters and I began to shout

Until our brothers started to look.

What a silent war that ensued. We stomped,

We demanded, we did all but plea

For equality. For, if with no pomp,

No flare, he could live, why shouldn’t she?

And finally they stopped; and finally they understood

That they, too, could gain. That while

We’re obligated to nudity, exposure, their own straightjackets would

Get no looser. Freedom for one meant for both, and they smiled.

 

Me

I am the degradation borne by melatonin, eventually freed.

I am the restlessness grown under a boot.

I am human, more than just arable land for his seed.

I am the sum of the adversity, heir to greatness afoot.

And yet, I am more. I am the benefactor

Of all who do me kindness, crying shoulder,

Source of wisdom, preserver of children’s laughter,

Companion to misery as we both get older.

I am the comfortable silence, light-hearted words,

Interpreter of dreams, speaker of truth,

Bringer of peace through the keeping of swords,

Personal advocate and sacrificer for ruth.

I am the path no one wants to take, alone, complete.

I am the hopeless romantic, sighing through the window, awaiting love.

My head is a medley: thoughts bitter, salty, bland, and sweet.

I want little, I take less, I have just enough.

I am what I was: long-suffering, proud, and potent.

I am what I will be: giving, committed, beating drum.

But I will not let these years of distance be a quotient

To keep me from what I am now: magnificent, greater than the sum.

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