Spitfire

Fri, 03/06/2015 - 21:01 -- kujaama

I was never the one to let an issue drive pass me

Let see all the sights

from night to light

Let it steam and soak in the sun

My tongue

Is too sharp to let that happen

My mouth moves faster than my mind

Spittin' out words like a dragon spits out acid

Except my words spiral into fire

Which makes me spit fire

I am a spitfire

They call me oppressed

Depressed like the caged canary

That can only sing for its master

Until its dying day

Oppressed like an African slave

Carrying her child on her back

While picking cotton for the white master

Praying to God everyday

He’ll reveal the north star way

Oppressed like the Syrian children

Who watch the life flee from the eyes

Of their sisters and brothers at breakfast

Their own limbs at lunch

And greeting Death a guest for dinner

I am not oppressed

For the definition of oppression

Is to be subjected to emotional or mental stress

The definition of depression

Is the deprivation of another’s self reason

In other words to commit treason

By making someone think they have no free will

And the trill of this song

Is not a tune I am accustomed to

I have free will

And while my veil maybe a veil

That separates the rest of the world from me

Don’t try to categorize me into a box

That grows a type of mold called stereotypes

Like Jihad is a holy call to war

In reality it means to struggle in anything

And my struggle is not being that

 Passive Muslim girl

Who lets others control her life

I am active, acting as an ambassador for my Muslim sisters

In a world deceased by strife

Don’t expect me to apologize

If my words are like sandpaper grinding against your ears

I am not that Palestinian or Native American land

You can just plow down and think I'll be fine with that

I have a brain, a mind and I will talk back

I am a spitfire

There is fire in my blood

Gathering and growing for generations

Like my ancestor mothers and my mother before me

I treat my sharp tongue like a sword

And it knows no boundaries

Except when it comes to the lord

My mother always told me to use

My double edge sword of a tongue wisely

She said while the sharp side is used for my enemies’ demise 

The blunt side is used for compromise and forging allies

Because when your a spitfire you don’t have too much of that

And it’s a fact I refuse to be a muppet

Be politricked by politicians blowing the devil’s trumpet

Claim lies are truths and truths are lies

Be Blinded by police testimonies

That Police brutality isn’t

The reality of many minorities' death

Yes, I am different

Because I define my own individuality 

I am Muslim, female

Black, Caucasian, and Cherokee too

I am a poetess that speaks the truth

An activist fighting in my youth

I am a songwriter, 

Screenwriter, and a fiction writer

Last of all

I am a spitfire

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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