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Strange, yet a reality none the less:
the oppressed destroying themselves
for the sake of the oppressor.
The battle of creatures of the sea
has now become that of the humanity
of the conquered land. A bizarre misguided
catharsis born out of guided mind bending
of victims killing selves for the sake
of molded daily bread of the oppressor.
The dehumanizing of common human bond
etched into souls by Middle Passage bondage
and stitched into long landed psyche, has
yet to be extricated from psychological slave mentality.
Its debasing scraping—like the depths of the sea—continues
to run deep and wide as the long ago Passage.
The sea that spat upon the shores of a strange land,
swallowed the anchors of satanic ships laden
with remnants of the booty of their sooty cargo;
a sooty cargo whose songs made no sense in a strange land.
Shackles may be broken and fall clanging from their physical
grasping; but minds may remain invisibly chained—unaware.
In nature, the causes of demise often remain unseen—veiled.
And liberation becomes a misconceived deception; seasoned
by the salt of the sea—rather than burning with freedom’s fire!
America, a deception in disguise, has revealed herself in reality;
but like Iago’s ego, the true self remains among the unknown.
Yet she rings the bell of justice till it cracks—stilling its silent tongue;
and in veiled blindness hang scales to seek their own balance.
They stripped the heaven-ward pole of its clothing;
but the colors remain in altered stripes and stars—
flushing a noose-like wave in smoke filled skies reeking
with the murderous smell of spiraling gun powder residue
lingering in air as they echo purity while simultaneously
orating mass hued skin perdition.
Though we are of the same seed of our brother, Othello,
we shall not let this adopted land ‘…roast in sulphur…’
nor be washed ‘…in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire.’
Nay. We are of the soul of the phoenix—
rising black doves roosting—plucking feathers of injustice
from the bleeding breast of a forgiven nation.
