SOLD

 

The Lord pushes her slave to and fro
To and fro, to and fro
like the swing as the wind wush into her pride
To and fro for his rights earned a stride.

She cooks for him just as she's placed
And for all minor things she was graced,
Satisfies his pleasures in his cubicle
And multiply as commanded is her miracle.

An African woman sold to disgrace,
They sold her pride, sold her face
Sold her rights at wedlock at a price
That the creator despise.

They call it 'dowry', a customary rite
That quenches the aura and dims the light
of what a true African woman should be
In the ignorance of their forbears they have bent to tarry.

For Hamatterns had wilted, moons changed,
Schools have planted on our foreheads a new eye.
Yet, our parents are still deranged
They still sell us out to die...

They still think the female child is worthless
And is to be dispensed
They send us to school and make us valuable
They feed us a honest lie

They call it dowry
They pretend they love us
And then they bargain on that day even with the men we truly love
They sell us out and drive us from where we grew.

The African woman is a slave no matter where we go
We are sometimes only fortunate to be sold to a good master
We are sold by our parents to him at a price
We are a commodity...