Who Said It Was Simple by Audre Lorde

There are so many roots to the tree of anger
that sometimes the branches shatter
before they bear.
Sitting in Nedicks
the women rally before they march
discussing the problematic girls
they hire to make them free.
An almost white counterman passes
a waiting brother to serve them first
and the ladies neither notice nor reject
the slighter pleasures of their slavery.
But I who am bound by my mirror
as well as my bed
see causes in color
as well as sex

and sit here wondering
which me will survive
all these liberations.

by Audre Lorde

Other poems by 'Audre Lorde'

Hanging Fire

Making Love To Concrete

The Black Unicorn

The Electric Slide Boogie

Coal

Never To Dream Of Spiders

Inheritance—His

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