THAT HURTING SOUND

Your feet move in bounce
Like rains ascending and descending the realms of heaven
Your hands weave unseen webs
As the spider skillfully weaves its home
Your body rhymes with apt chorus
And you sing like one whose vocals
Have been declogged by the almighty Satan
As other hands beat the sounding hell out of me
Where lies fairness in this realm of chaos?

II
I lived in beauty
My skin a sight to see
I jumped and hummed
To the rhythms of my movement
Only time I needed a tree
Was to scratch my back
Or chew its leaves
Now my skin lives tied to a carved tree
As my body rots through varied intestines unknown
Where lies fairness in this realm of chaos?

III
That poor static tree
Whose mobility lies beneath the ground
Moves my hardened skin up and down
Feeling whips of canes
When need be
Shielding my hell
Where did I go wrong?

IV
Beat me as much as you like
You hands tasked with slapping duties
Feel me as duly as you want
You legs ecstatic in hopping showmanships
Judge me as much as you need
You ears tasked with sound hunting
Only remember
I was once a happy antelope
Living in beauty
And loving nature
With no hurting trait
Until my poor body tasted the sharp sword
Of a cruel hunter
Losing my all in his jubilation
Beat me, Abena, for I am finished
Beat me to bursting like a poor bubble
Just know mortality owes you naught
And will stand in glee
When your hunter’s effective gun hunts you
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016