In the place in my body where the past perches highest,
There is only pain,
But neverminding that, I will lift my head.
Despite a childhood spent bowing under blows.
My head will rise to stare Mount Olympus in the face.
Despite a childhood spent touched by sick grownup hands.
My own hands will grip my child one day with care,
Despite all that has hurt me, all that scarred me,
Now, I will lift my head.
Now, Now, I must lift my head.
Please, help me lift my head.
Issa A. Dioume 