FOR AMINA LAWAL & CHILD

Amina Lawal
with a baby to nurse,
wishig not to enthral
a victim of a horrible curse.
I frist watched you
through the
Human Rights Watch window.
You and your daughter
perched in my inbox,
birds caged by words
willed to falter,
a cure for liberty detox.
I could not eat
the sandwich in my hand,
I was at anxiety’s command.
I prayed in your behalf,
“where on earth is God’s staff?”
Then I emailed your current bio
to Dr. Angela Mayou.
Her secretary wrote back,
“she is aware of this fact.”
Thank God.

Amina,
I saw you
in the New York Times today,
freedom is God’s pay.
Amina Lawal and daughter,
drink a peaceful journey
of shade and water,
earth’s blessed attorney.

So frail a thread,
the time you have
as a good luck charm
the three ring circus
would be sober and wrong without
and pure and adulterous women
could not learn to walk without.
Your precious dignity
hangs by a hair
and looses the battle
with armed hands
that won’t allow
your existence to speak freely
against the murderous plot
aimed at your worthiness.
They take your two white God-given defenses
to town and jewelry makers
while leaving you behind
without a proper funeral
or fortress for your earthly body.
Dead as a carcass,
my virtuous friend
with fearful dusty eyes that see
your last vision:
the sore of destiny
soon to be feasted upon
by birds of the air and maggots of the dead
living in accordance with nature’s remedies
that don’t concern your precious ears and trunk anymore.
You’re doomed and I’m sad.
Your life is slighted
and I am without skill to protect you.
I’m sorry you amounted to a naughty trade
filling pockets with violent coins and bills.
Immortal justice will come calling later
for eyes that beg to differ.