The Artisan Grace - Poem about the Somali Gabooye by Bashir Goth

The following excerpt which I use as an introduction to the poem is from an article I wrote in 2007 about the status of the Gabooye community among the Somali people.

"They have no voice among us and no political representation. And if anyone of them dares to protest, we easily silence them by invoking the M-word. This makes every Somali around them flee and avoid them like a plague. Even in the national charter of the current Somali Transitional Federal Government they are nameless although they have taken a little better status by being referred to as the 'others' among small but respected Somali clans. This is the closest they have ever come to share a status albeit an insignificant one with other clans." (Link)

THE ARTISAN GRACE

Take a look, brother, a full look at me
An eyeful of the whole of me
Poke my skin hard, and pinch it if you will
Cut my flesh, deep into the blood and bone
Until I cry for I am not made of stone.

Can you see now?
That I shudder in pain?
Can you see my blood,
As red, as fresh as yours?
Can you see my bones,
And the marrow in plain?

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