• samswan 77w

    NEVER TO THE SKY

    They opened their eyes
    to the red hot sun
    but never
    to the blue sky.
    Yodeling vehemently
    the black music
    passed down to their illiterate tongues:
    "Let us break bread together on our knees;
    Let us break bread together on our knees;
    When I fall down on my knees
    With my face to the rising sun
    O Lord have mercy on me."
    The air sang too
    finding lyrics between
    experienced, young,
    new born and adult voices.
    Their lost bodies
    and innocent minds,
    eyes fogged with perspiration
    and bloody atrocities,
    harvested in corn and indigo fileds.


    Do you know why they looked up?
    They searched for the
    embryo of freedom
    feticide by white folks.
    They talked to birds
    hovering above.
    If they would share their wings
    Or take them on a flight ?
    Far far away...
    Had unanswered questions
    to the humanity...
    Their coloured skin
    were no less than
    of packed animals,
    as inside it dwelt
    the bruises and burnt souls.
    Hollowed too.
    For they had no dreamscape.
    But to go home.
    Find home.
    Meet their sold wives.
    Meet their escaped husbands.
    Embrace their brought kids.
    Kiss the wrinkled foreheads
    of their old and weak mothers.
    Present few yellow flowers
    to the headstone of their fathers
    and ancestors all gone.
    Whose blood is mixed with theirs
    as they worked on the same
    dark soil of plantation.
    Unknown to tomorrow
    or yesterday.
    They knew today
    was the same caged daylight.
    Orphans,
    of their own country.
    With rivers of pain
    running on their flesh.
    Their breathe
    held in chains.
    In their sleep of few hours,
    they longed for a secret death,
    resting in peace with few yellow flowers.

    No more the children of god
    were they.
    Bought and sold.
    Sold and bought again.
    Fluctuated prices: low and high,
    traveled them from Virginia to Kentucky.
    Fist fighting with survival.
    They loved each others scars.
    For they were the trophies
    of their hard work,
    unpaid endless works.
    As if they were inanimate.
    Born to serve the privileged race.
    The four letter words
    be it love or life
    were meaningless to them.
    The sweat on their face
    sprinted to catch up the marathon
    of out cries
    hidden in their eyes.
    Indeed they woke up to the sun
    but never to sky.
    Indeed they forever slept on the fields
    but never rested in peace.
    -Samiksha
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    I know it is long, may be too long this time. I hope this does some justice in pouring light how miserable was black slavery and racism in American soil and air.
    #slavery #pod
    @mirakee @writersnetwork @john_solomon
    PC : to the rightful owner

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    Never To The Sky

    They opened their eyes
    to the red hot sun
    but never
    to the blue sky.
    They searched for the
    embryo of freedom
    feticide by white folks.
    Orphans
    Of their own country.
    With rivers of pain
    running on flesh.
    ┬ęsamswan