EXPRESSIONS Poetry

Identity Oblivion of the Melanin Soul

We have bled tears and wept blood

Humiliated. Mutilated. Segregated.

Where were you?

Where were you my brother?

As we were packed and stacked

Into the belly of a sea monster

A monster with sails and hulls and a rudder

As tension sought freedom from the bladder

Like abominable beasts unhinged from the wild

Decimating man, woman and child

They raped our vaults of innocence

They tore away our souls and crushed our spirits

Laughing and calling it benevolence

Even as their whips tore off the flesh from our backs

Peeling the Negro from off our skins

Scaping us like a pubic hair that has overstayed its welcome

Beaten and pounded like grapes hoping to become juice

But the only juice we knew was the sweat off our brows

That navigated the canals of our flesh

Dug deeply by the Whiteman’s torture

We looked around and found no salvation, no shelter, no rapture.

Or maybe someone forgot to blow the trumpet

But you certainly haven’t

You blow your trumpets about sufferings you had no stake in

But whose glorious fruits you have nevertheless reaped

You say you are the new black

And that you delight in negritude

And listen to stories of its pulchritude

But you have never truly known your past self

You have never truly understood where greatness stood

So you allow yourself to be defined by the gyrating of your waists

You reduce your identity to the image of proudly ignorant thuggery

Yet I see not your strength in these times when justice is reduced to mockery

These times when your brothers may not come home

If they fit the profile

Profile…

You have once again been redefined as a target

White arrows hunt you down systematically

As justice cowers behind the cloak of lopsided rhetoric

And freedom is lynched by the selfishness of your fears

Mike’s body is now browner than the earth

Alton’s future will no more be sterling

And still you fight and bicker among yourselves

Still you think they will hear you just because you have something to say

Have you still not learned?

Will you not sing a new song?

Played in brilliant defiance with the grace of an orchestra

For you are an orchestra!

You are a thunderous voice ringing with dignity and impunity

The whole world is watching

This is not the time to forget who you are

So let them know

Who is running the show!

With rent sackcloth and mournful ashes

I am praying for you

That you will no more be oblivious of your identity

Author: Akyempo, threesixtyGh writer

Image Source: Google & Pinterest

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