I’m ground like maize
I was ground like maize,
spilled in the dust,
my teeth digging deep
like a starving soul.
I wiped my own tears,
my face sweeping floors
like scattered flour.
Happiness lived far away,
success never touched
the shadow of my feet.
The fruit of my sweat
grew weak with time,
and patience became
my disability.
They looked at me
like I was nobody.
My body became stone
for their sticks.
I watched my joy
break into pieces
on the floor.
My belief was slandered,
my presence smelled
like death in crowds.
My mind collapsed
like a tired dawn.
Sixty-six days mourning,
life became mountains,
light forgot my name,
existence dimmed.
Yet
I rose like dawn
through hardship.
At five in the morning,
mountains flattened,
dew touched my mind,
and I walked on clouds
like birds set free.
Hardship shaped me
into someone defined
in the dry land of grief.
Pain should never become
the chain of discouragement,
but a sharp tool
cutting through barriers.
Tell me
will you reject medicine
because it is bitter?
