There are ladies, naked, aching to cover their souls from sight.

Windy winds have taken their clothes away from them.


Big men.

Strong men.

Brave men.

You don't know.


I cannot tell you how I feel for them.

Their sinewy hands folded softly over hardened...

I hesitate.

I rake to long.

my emotions are tempered.

my feet are chilled to the bone.


Theirs are sandy, dirty, dusty, muddy. They have no shoes for wear.


My queens are of solitude, in the group that is three.

Is three a group?

Trinity!

Holy!

Rage.

I am dying to take.

I will take to quench my thirst for life.

How come nobody told them they are more?

How come nobody told them they are much?

Much, much more.


I see them rise, come forth from the distance. Slow, pounding steps into insecure future.

Heavy, mighty.

Mightily they are sucking in air to blow. Wheat to eat. And water.

But many their children are lost from sight.

Did these die to save our world from being overtaken?

A terrible, great thought you give me here. A weapon.


They are gathering themselves, this Trinity of Come, Take and Go.

Come smiles, Take fights the taking, but Go will will herself away in your place.

She is not here to expand your hungry satisfied mind.

You will die waiting for her to take the wand to bewitch you.

There they rise. They are coming.

My feet are chilled to the bone, but I stand to meet them.

They suck in air to breath, but do not use it for this earthly task.

They are much more.


The noise is deafening.

I wish they had clothes.

Give them their clothes!

Please clothe them, enrobe them!

They should be dressed like queens.


Why am I raving here?

It is not I and I am not they. They are not my past, nor my present, nor my future.

They do not belong here.

They want out.

I am driving them with my force and using them.

I am moving them back.


I AM the man.

I am the MAN.

There is no use to draw against me but resign, lay low, open yourself, sweet lady.

I will be there when you awaken, have no Fear.

There will be work for you.

And work.

And work.

You will have no time to breath. No time to imagine anything better for yourself.

Your children will walk upon you, taking time to eat from your thin breasts.

After I have feasted.


I am not of malice, I am of nature.

Smile your pretty smiles.


I shiver from the onslaught. I am tired; my mind is weary to bear.

There is loss for words or strong images. Only dust rising in the landscape.

I draw back as you will. Mine is not the time for socializing here. There are other, better places.

I will not complain, as you want. I will not dive under, as you will (I am not here to satisfy your dissatisfaction of me)

I am further, longer, stronger at taking than that.

I will turn and go.


To come back.

Haha!

Did you think I was beaten.

Did you really suppose I would give up my clothes.

They are Here! Waiting for me.

They are the richness I deserve.

They are the form to fit my wounded body.

They will present themselves to me like to a Queen; they have no need to argue my rightness in being here.

They do not lower me from sight.


They are Mine


I AM




© IngridMwangiRobertHutter, 2003


MWANGI HUTTER

redressing.

they should be dressed like queens

by Mwangi Hutter