Of Our Assata

You cannot afford her
You cannot imagine
What she means to us
When you turn your eyes on her
We see your dirty heart

We need her and she stays alive
In our years of greed
And shameful quiet
She holds the clay
Embodying our root system

No we won’t defend her
We love her because she terrorizes you
She who defeated your borders
Claimed a million homes
She grows

Scattered rose of the island
Warrior in the garden
Priestess of the raised fist
Mother of our radical delights
You cannot afford her

She lives inside us all