Sweet Mammy Mine

Oh Mammy, why do you smile? 
  Your son is covered with tar and feathers and his genitals have been cut off and his lifeless body is hanging from the old oak tree. 
Oh Mammy, why do you smile? 
Your daughter can no longer piss and will never again be able to carry a child.  She holds her baby close to her heart, his lifeless bloody figure soaking her blouse;
 Master's dogs drooling. 
You sing.
You dance.
You smile. 
Master sucked the milk from your breast while your own babies starved.  His children feasted on your famous ham and chicken and all the trimmings while your own children swallowed rocks in order to relieve the pangs of hunger. 
  Oh Mammy, why do you smile?
Their backs are covered with scars; their blood dripping into the earth; their eyes crusted over with tears and sweat. 
   Your own mother was raped before your very eyes;
her children-
 master's children-
 your own siblings-
 were sold on an auction block along with a cow and two pigs.
Why do you smile?
  Your father was ripped away from your grandmother's arms when he was only a child;
 he was loaded into a dark, crowded ship where he spent six months covered in his own feces, drinking his own urine, his arms and legs bound to a stinking rotting corpse,
 so confused,
 so helpless,
 having no idea where he was going
or if he'd survive
 or if he even wanted to survive. 
And still you smile.
  White pearly teeth,
big wide eyes.
Hands on your hips,
 a lullabye on your lips,
a white baby on your nipple,
 blood on your hands. 
Smiling, smiling, smiling. 
Why do you smile, Mammy? 
Why do you smile?
Maybe you smile because you can no longer cry.  Your tear ducts learned long ago there was no use in crying.  The marks in your back like dried up rivers, ripping through the rugged mountains and barren deserts, are proof that tears serve no valuable purpose.
Maybe you smile
 because there is nothing left to do
 but smile. 
Or maybe you smile because you know something we do not. 
Perhaps a highly guarded secret lives hidden
behind those bright teeth and cheery eyes.
  A secret truth, perhaps. 
A truth about life. 
A truth about ourselves.
  A truth that has existed
 since the beginning of time. 
Maybe you smile
because you know you are like the earth,
 providing our nourishment, giving us light, giving us breath. 
Providing for our every need. 
Never asking for anything in return. 
Taking in stride the abuse, the neglect, the poison. 
Maybe you smile
 because are like Gaia,
 strong,
 beautiful,
 abundant,
  self-sufficient. 
Maybe you smile 
because you know  that in the end, 
after all the wars
 and rapes
 and murders
 and tears
 and blood,
 you will still be here,
 giving life and nourishment
 to your beautiful children-
 the trees,
the flowers,
the deer,
 the eagle.
 No more yessuh massuh. 
No more children dangling from the tree like macabre Christmas ornaments. 
No more watching helplessly as your daughter is instructed in the art of womanhood by men in white sheets. 
No more bon voyages for your grandbabies down by the riverside.
 Maybe you smile
because you know that no bullwhip,
shotgun,
penis, 
bomb,
 factory,
 or noose
 can ever destroy the wisdom
and the beauty
that is you.  
I know why you smile, Mammy. 
I know why you sing.
  I know your secret. 
Smile on, Mammy!
Smile on!