A BALLAD TO THE ANCESTORS

Like ripened fruits plucked from a flourishing tree,

They were stolen from a lush paradise garden;

A self sustained dwelling having no need of a warden.

A beautiful paradise where all worked and lived free—

But the thieves of the sea came, taking them to the shore

Cabled towed neck to neck; waist shackled like others before;

Stacked in ship bellies reeking with death, feces and pee

 God, let their souls’ survival spirit abide always within me?

Though many of our ancestors chose the freedom of death

Over the slavery of life, many chose, for one reason or another

To survive the Passage in hope of returning to the home they left;

 They arrived as chained exotic human cargo for trade and barter.

From sea ships’ corrals to auction blocks, they were bought and sold;

Skilled craftsmen—keeping intelligence secret—skills used to get free;

Buyers believing the dumb beasts were worth their weight in gold.

I pray their souls’ survival spirit abide always within me.

Four hundred years of wrought from can see to can’t see—

Our ancestors—free fodder fueling a peculiar institution

In which one had to be fully white in order to really be free;

And all blacks—objects of pleasure of all whites’ satisfaction.

The black woman—fertile young and old—was its chief breeder;

For pleasure or profit a mother of bastards she was branded to be;

For children—black, mulatto or white—the black breast was the feeder.

Oh please allow their souls’ survival spirit abide always within me?

Yes through skill, blood, sweat and tears, ancestors learned to prevail;

And here we are today still struggling and fighting to be absolute free;

With the undying spirit of my ancestors’ faith and hope, I will not fail;

For God has granted, their souls’ survival spirit abide always within me.