My grandmother and I
Sat under the light shade of a tree and she began:

Before my time there was a Queen
Who sprouted a birthmark on her face – just on the cheeks
At first, but she watched it every day
And wore her woven hood low to hide
A paint mark of unassuming nature

But a Queen, of course, never washes her own hair
Her women-maid knew to well about the queen’s pain
And day by day thoughts grew
Inside her, a-letter-or –word
A sad secret that had to be spoken
With her dark circled lips

They listen, you’re mistaken
She said

They said even dead souls can’t keep secrets.
She said, huh

There were folks who dreamed of such talk
But she slept on a bed of burning ground.

Then, on dawn-break, she could feel it no more
Her feet took flight like the morning light through the trees,
She ran to the end of the light shade
Under the tree, she dug and whispered to the
Earth and whispered her secret
“Queen Makeda has a birthmark”,

Do not disrupt my grandmother says
Taking her tree bark, placing it between her teeth
And her kohl circled lips.