Poetic Me...

I was in a history class when this piece sort of just flowed from the tips of my pen. The words kept coming faster than I could write them. But somehow I managed to get these ones down.



Past These Silvery Shores

Before these chains and stalls
When I roamed the trails and canvassed the hills
The fowls and beasts were my reward
I knew that I was blessed

My woman- bosom gently curved, skin- ebony velvet
She oils her temple with sesame and hair with castor
And her treasure is mine, all mines
Can you not see that I am blessed?

My children- my prize, my pleasure, my pain
Oh that they would grow, with this knowledge
My toil all worth it
To know that they are blessed

My back- bent, bruised and burnt
Muscles torn and hurt, heart even more so
As I ache for my posterity
That they would know that we are blessed

What would they know of this?
Will they see beyond the stripes and wounds?
To nights of rhythmic bongo beats
And know that they are blessed

What will they hear of this?
Of lashes, sweat and tears
Or, of freedom and silky ruby sunsets
And know that they are blessed

What will they learn of this?
That ivory coloured men took their friends
Or, though hardly gentle, another opportunity to prove
And know that they are blessed

But hush....

Rest well my child, be wise
All things no doubt do shape
us all from the very same lump of clay
To know that we are blessed

Look far past these silvery shores
To a home that only the core of you has sensed
A place of warmth, of labour and love
And know, my seed, that you are blessed