The Face of Goree

first_imgWhen I saw her faceShe was smiling, broadlyThen I saw her face fallI then saw the scarsThe toil of slaverySmall of the stenchThe footprints of slaves bundled like cattle She couldn’t speakSmiles are elusiveI never trust themThe radiance of GoreeHid the stories beneathShare this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)last_img

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