* The Art Of Freedom Is An Expression *
Smoked!
I guess that's what they see with my locs.
Yes you, dont look away...
I see it in your eyes as you walk by.
Ever thought that I dont even smoke?
Infact I'll puff this infront of your eyes
so you criticize till you question why you obsess over my life.
Today I saw you with a coffee mug,
again looking at what I pride in my hair.
Not concerned that I could criticize what you holding in your palms.
Same cycle on the path everyday,
criticize, criticize, criticize.
Not many years pass that you see your cub grow his mane
to tell you am more of their idol being myself.
So criticize, criticize.
Because every morning I stand infront of the mirror,
all I lack from this head harboring locs
is the critique that seems to identify me infront of your eyes.
A poem by Mawejje Tshaka
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