Siene Palizzi

She was Eve in the garden
Mother Mary
The native blood in her
Likened to bluebells across the field
Pungent like jasmine on her breath
Of fresh air
Captivity hardened her
Memories graced her forehead
She held her wrist for freedom 
And black sex
Shoulders raised 
Royal tree 
Metallic lips
Dark penetrating looks
Anger and torment
The American flag on display
But she thought it was empty in meaning
Fighting in the war
For friends and family lost
Traveling across each dimension
With love for humanity
Human, magic discourse
Electric thoughts frozen through time
My parents missed her
Her dad — a messenger
Alive to wander and stay put
A revolution
For her
Everything she touched
The corruption 
Faded
Led, leader, example
But also lost to the wind
My tree, her balloon
They planted the seeds
She watered and tilled
The President put it in writing
With God’s name on it
And the plucking
Sewed on all our hearts
So she rose 
To fame — Siene Pali(t)zzi