In my first
year as a young writer I would often find myself lost. I had no identity. I had
no ideas. I had nothing. The door to my creative world had been closed shut.
Every writer has a door to their creative world and it is their mission to find
the password to open it. Mine? Mine is three words of the most important
meaning in the American Literature: Edgar Allan Poe. Thinking of Poe makes
words flow through my body an out of my pen and a poem, that can be such a hard
task to start, flows right out of me.
For as long
as I remembered
Since when
she was a sprout
The door
was always open
People
getting in and out
Hagar,
Harriet and Prim
Would walk
out and in
Danoe, Abel
and Bout
Would walk
in and out
With water
cans in their hands
With
baskets on their shoulders
With a
child strapped onto a chest
At least
until someone sold her
Poor little
Hafiza was small
But she was
already working
Little did
she know
The horror
her future was holding
Skin dark
as a Raven
Haunted by
sadness and loss
Her poor
body had no haven
Soon she
would be sold at a high cost
Mr. Bleu
was the name
Skin white
as Ivory
An idle old
man
His
profession was slavery
With her
small bare fingers
She was
bought to clean pearls
But soon
her Lord’s hands
Were all over
her curls
As the
years passed by
Se mourned
her fate
Mr. Bleu’s
Black Pearl
Had been
definitely worth the wait
To her eyes
she was doleful
To her eyes
she was doomed
To his eyes
she was beautiful
To his eyes
she had bloomed
For as the
Black Cat
As the
Black Raven
The Black
Pearl
With bad
luck, gave in
One day at
dawn
The Black
Pearl arose
With only
one swing
Everything
came to a close
People tell
it differently
I don’t
know what’s true
But I know
that Hafiza
Killed the
old white Mr. Bleu
With a knife
or a pan
With what
she had at hand
When she
killed Mr. Bleu
It was also
her end
And the old
man’s soul
Lying on
the cold stone floor
Shall be
lifted
Nevermore
The little
girl’s hands
That once
cleaned pearls
Had now
killed a man
That dared
to touch her curls
Now she
lies on the floor
As white as
her soul
She has
freed herself
Her body is
now whole!
My poem/
story is mostly based on Walt Whitman and his idea of growth and death and how
death is not an end but a new beginning, that’s why the character Hafiza killed
herself. I also tried to portray the beauty accentuated by sadness that is a
topic in the poem “The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe. To the character’s eyes she
was becoming sadder and doleful but for Mr. Bleu she was more beautiful than ever.
I also took inspiration in “The Black Cat” by E. A. Poe because I like his
inclination for topics like death and violence. Throughout, I also tried to
incorporate references as “the black cat”, “the raven” and the final stanza on
“The Raven” when describing the death of Mr. Bleu.
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