Not not the double negative,
Which was corrected publicly.
Nor the pronunciation of ‘publicly’
Which differs from ‘public ally’-
A distinction they knew not-
But the light of the pen
Which illuminated our pen
And provided us words for fodder.
With this tongue to chew the cud,
A language was re-appropriated.
One of dissonance and dissidence.
It spoke of the milky womb
Of creation and cri.
Interwoven with lace, interlaced
With grace and the simplicity of
Mother nature.
Daydreaming and window gazing
To access that continuum were met
With knuckle wrappings.
As if the present verbiage was all
That there ever was and would be.
As if the condensation on the windows
Collected only on one pane and as if
There was no legacy to the honey bee.
They failed to see the irony
When before us
A blank slate was presented,
With “tabula rasa” inscribed
Heavily, on not neither but both sides.
Sufi Orange 