Ten year old Marta
Sits on a cold stone
Outside the shack
That she calls home.
Small naked toes
Draw patterns
In the ochre dust
Just because they can.
She stays silent
Not to wake
The Baas, knowing he will make
Another stripe, to decorate her back.
She stares across the endless veldt
For many moons
She has felt
That she is part of this.
She sees the Oryx
Dance and chase
Trying to outpace
The flat eared Cheetah.
Elephants, with trumpet sounds
Pound and shake
The earth
For all they're worth.
She wonders
When it was foretold
She should be bought, and sold
A chattel
The price of a white child's rattle.
She feels the tears begin to flow
For she knows, within her soul
There must be more to life than this
As the African breeze kisses her.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Owain Glyn
