My heart is a basket filled with water,
It carries weight with its shinny woven skin,
Yet, it never brims, and never whole.
It is an empty shell,
it is always filling, but never keeping.
It\'s a vessel that forgets what it holds in time.
My heart sings the dirge of black women,
It cries for freedom lost in it\'s echoes.
It weeps for tomorrows that will always come.
It dances to the song of pain,
And swims in the pool of hatred,
Even when it kisses the lips of love.