In all four hundred years I searched
I searched for my husband
I searched for my son
Though I have gone many places
I still search for my husband
I still search for my son

The tall dark handsome man
The slanted lopsided grin
The deep throaty laugh
Embedded on his hand is 
The quarter moon birthmark
 
I see the boy who was torn away from my breasts
The boy who in his fathers arms was protected from vice
Whose father sacrificed his life to save him
Four hundred years I searched
I found a son whom I did not know


Of my husband his virtues I can not stand
Like smell of the skunk
I cringed at the sight of my husband
The proud man who’s been subdued
Whose mind now resides in a plane of fantasy?
 Living in an unimaginable past?

Four hundred years I searched
I have rendered the skies saturated 
And the rivers swell with moisture 
A washed with immense storms 
I look to see their drowning bodies 
I look to see their life sustaining entities
Four hundred years I searched and cried