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THE BREADWOMAN

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THE BREADWOMAN

About the Author:
Yakima Cuffy is an Attorney-at-law and a talented writer of poems, short stories, and plays. She dedicates time to participate in spoken poetry events, literary festivals, and short story competitions. Originally written for her grandmother, this poem won 2nd place prize for the English Poetry category of the Dominica Independence Literary Competition in 2018.

 

At the crack of dawn,
Her flip-flop footsteps
Are the leaven
That bids all the village arise.
Her madras head tie catches the sun
And reflects off her skin – golden brown,
Like the loaves she carries
In a straw basket
Deeper than her wrinkles
And wider than her smile.
Her arms are firm as wooden pestles –
Strong from the kneading of dough
And the fanning of flames in stone ovens.
Her walk is an ancient creole folksong
That invites stray dogs to her side –
Her companions for morning transactions,
Demanding only a few crumbs
For their service.
The aroma of fresh bread
Baked in caves of earth and stone
Is enough
To send customers flocking
From verandas, to roadsides
Anxiously awaiting her arrival.
Each loaf is, after all, the perfect medley
Of an answered prayer
For daily bread
And the heart’s indulgence
Of something warm and decadent
For breakfast.
All the village marvels
At the way she hums Methodist hymns
While sifting through
The hills and hinterlands of the village
By foot,
Sometimes on mornings cold enough
To see your breath on the wind,
And again, in the evenings
When the sun shatters beneath the horizon,
Spilling its orange and purple and scarlet
Across the sky.
But the mystery of her strength
Lies in God, and country.
It lies in yesterday’s David and tomorrow’s Maria
And tears and laughter
And river baths
And ration
And land, green to brown
To green again.
The mystery of her strength
Lies in the eight children she delivered by a midwife
And the husband who drinks and curses
And wastes his wages
On strange women
Every fortnight.
The mystery of her strength
Lies in a love
As warm,
And timeless,
And satisfying
As the taste of fresh bread
Baked to perfection
In caves of earth and stone.