The Shot - Ogundare Tope

each line
on her face is
a story of war,
each crease
tells of battles
fought and lost,
wounds brandished,
hope taken captive.

in her eyes sucked
of tomorrow
are orbs of dimmed light,
its objects
shadowy illusions.

her mouth droops
from the weight of sighs,
from lamentations
and dirges,
from offering desperate prayers,
from the conquering of her pride.

her skin is a map of pain,
every ridge and trough
will lead you down
anguish.

she sits and stares
intently as i take my shot,
defiance lifting her chin,
setting her mouth
in a thin line.

her eyes speak to me
through the lens of my camera:
i refuse to be broken.

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Ogundare Tope (20th century) Nigeria
Source: Brittle Paper