by Vondavious Breaux
Bound by blood and shackles,
Abandoned by hope, the fear of unknowing.
My physique stings from the engraved lashes.
I have been deprived and brought to a land unfamiliar.
It seems Shango cries alongside me;
His spirit dances on the coast, thundering.
Each boom resonates, a drum.
His ballad calls out to me
Son of roots and dirt, you no longer remain near the edges
Of your homeland.
A tool is what I have become, a worthless tool
To these beasts who give no profit.
These men of flesh demand obedience;
Day after day constant beatings relentlessly
Eliminate any contemplations of escape.
I see men of my kin become submissive,
Licking the boots of our captors.
Hatred resides within my fragmented heart;
The intent to kill weighs heavily.
I vow vengeance;
My spear is not yet dull.
I will bide my time;
I cannot stand alone.
Spirits of Africa, I pray for your heroism.
May my pleas be answered and you select me
To rectify redemption.