Her Journey








Her Journey
 title stories
  154
  •  
  0
  •   12 comments
Share

in
in IG & Wattpad: @theindigopoet ^^
Autoplay OFF   •   8 months ago
A poem based on my own experiences of racism, another personal one. And includes a message at the end! (All art from Pinterest.) Thank you for reading. :) <3

Her Journey

There was once a little girl,

There was once a little girl, at the end of my street

There was once a little girl, at the end of my street who was shacked up in

There was once a little girl, at the end of my street who was shacked up in pale, peeling plaster.

I watched in interest,

I watched in interest, she stepped out,

I watched in interest, she stepped out, (once in a while),

I watched in interest, she stepped out, (once in a while), content she was, as she

I watched in interest, she stepped out, (once in a while), content she was, as she breathed

I watched in interest, she stepped out, (once in a while), content she was, as she breathed in the morning scent.

Alongside being met

Alongside being met with odours anew,

Alongside being met with odours anew, the wind carried insults

Alongside being met with odours anew, the wind carried insults and raucous slurs;

Alongside being met with odours anew, the wind carried insults and raucous slurs; they disliked her skin,

Alongside being met with odours anew, the wind carried insults and raucous slurs; they disliked her skin, cocoas and coffees

Alongside being met with odours anew, the wind carried insults and raucous slurs; they disliked her skin, cocoas and coffees and earthy colours

Alongside being met with odours anew, the wind carried insults and raucous slurs; they disliked her skin, cocoas and coffees and earthy colours were not their ideal.

But the little girl,

But the little girl, the one who

But the little girl, the one who stood on her doorstep,

But the little girl, the one who stood on her doorstep, watched and pondered.

But the little girl, the one who stood on her doorstep, watched and pondered. 'Starved of oxygen',

But the little girl, the one who stood on her doorstep, watched and pondered. 'Starved of oxygen', she thought.

'That's why they act so

'That's why they act so hostile.

'That's why they act so hostile. Plants need to breathe

'That's why they act so hostile. Plants need to breathe and prosper under a gentle glare

'That's why they act so hostile. Plants need to breathe and prosper under a gentle glare of a sun painted into the sky.'

But these shoots encountered

But these shoots encountered the torrential downpour

But these shoots encountered the torrential downpour that comes with

But these shoots encountered the torrential downpour that comes with foolishness,

But these shoots encountered the torrential downpour that comes with foolishness, 'far too soon',

But these shoots encountered the torrential downpour that comes with foolishness, 'far too soon', she repeated.

So from that day,

So from that day, every word that was

So from that day, every word that was bitter

So from that day, every word that was bitter on the tongue,

So from that day, every word that was bitter on the tongue, fell away,

So from that day, every word that was bitter on the tongue, fell away, like drops

So from that day, every word that was bitter on the tongue, fell away, like drops of water

So from that day, every word that was bitter on the tongue, fell away, like drops of water trickling off a leaf.

I waved,

I waved, she smiled,

I waved, she smiled, as she passed by,

I waved, she smiled, as she passed by, down by the houses

I waved, she smiled, as she passed by, down by the houses of pale,

I waved, she smiled, as she passed by, down by the houses of pale, peeling plaster.

*** I wrote and posted this poem, based on personal experiences that I have had with racism against myself, people I know and even just people I see walking down the street, for example. To think that this is the 21st century...

This is also my 200th official post, (which shocked me so much ahaha), so I thought I should share some of my thoughts and some more personal stories. Thank you to the people who read my work, it means a lot. This site has allowed me, I think, to find my own style of poetry, and I'm glad you guys like it.

"Why must the colour of my skin be the first impression people get of me?"

"Why must the colour of my skin be the first impression people get of me?" Iqra.

Stories We Think You'll Love 💕

Get The App

App Store
COMMENTS (12)
SHOUTOUTS (0)