THEY THINK, WE FEEL

[Sis_Iyabinghi]

There are shattered dreams
Emanating form censored lips
Crying out to the slaver
Nightmares of a past journey
On a battered slave ship
Wending its way through the Atlantic
A middle passage of skulls and bones
Crying out to the slave whose
Heart knows no compassion
But is as cold as sculpted stones

He thinks, he does not feel
The the pain of writhing human bodies
Beneath the darkened decks, the belly
Of a slave ship weaving its way
To a new world, a new day

A day born of human chattels
Providing the means to build castles
Labourers without wages
While the Atlantic rages
A storm in the middle passage
Of skulls and bones
As cold as the sculpted stones
I think, but most of all I feel
The brutalization of these precious souls
The children of Afrika coming into the cold
Crying out to the slave whose
Heart is like a northeast wind
Chilling to the bone, chillingly
Revealing his emaciated and emasculated soul.

Iya'shanti.

[ROOTSWOMAN]

[Sis_Iyabinghi]

Greetings Roots,

It is so ironic that you would post the second image from top. I actually have that picture at home which is always a reminder of the despicable nature of some not worthy to be called human.

There is also a story attached to that picture. Instead of two men it should have been three. The other man's name is Henry Cameron. He is still alive and well today and was responsible for opening a Black Holocaust Museum in Milwaukee.

As the story goes while they were stringing him up, Mr. Cameron claims he heard a female voice crying out to loose him. When they did he ran all the way into town not quite believing that his life was miraculously spared. He attributes the voice to that of the Virgin Mary and divine intervention.

This particular lynching took place in Marion, Indiana in 1930.

Once again Rastafari Love for more images to remind I'n'I of the wickedness of the oppressor man. One Love.

[Sis_Iyabinghi]

I should make a few corrections in the above writing:

"Emanating from censored lips"

"Crying out to the slaver".

Blessed Love.

[ROOTSWOMAN]

Greetings Sistah!

Give thanks for that piece of OURstory.  Never knew that before.

EACH ONE TEACH ONE!

ROOTS

[Tyehimba]

There are shattered dreams
Emanating form censored lips

Give thanks for this thought provoking piece. Your contributions to the poetry forum is much appreciated.
....
What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun
Or fester like a sore;

And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over;

Like a syrupy sweet?


Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

by Langston Hughes