slavery (the slave)

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The slave


No, I won’t cry


No, I won’t look at you


I will continue staring at the
horizon.


I’ve been deprived of my freedom,
wife and children.


I will not talk to you about my son
Wombee whom you made adopted by a White family; I will not mention my wife whom
you have shamelessly raped with impunity.


You’ve taken my cattle, you’ve fired
my cabin, slaughtered my companions. You
won’t take my dignity.


My chains are your chains,


You draw your own load.


Don’t threaten me, I am not afraid;


You can sell me,


You can hit me


You can whip me,


You can break my bones,


Make me work until I die,


But you cannot make me drop a tear,
nor utter a lament,


I will cast the bad eye on you and
your kins,


The Spirits will trigger hail storms
on your plantations


Someday, your house will be on fire
too,


Your children will die of diseases
unknown by your doctors,


You will be shaken with shivering,


Your trade will collapse,


Your crops will fade,


But you will be abandoned by your
friends.


I am Black


I am the powerful one.


You will lose everything in your
life whereas I will keep, the only valuable aspect: my soul.


I will sing with the other slaves


I will tell them my story and they
will tell me theirs,


We will always remain together


And we, Blacks, will found a new
Nation,


A Nation of Liberty.

The painting was made by a friend from Facebook: John, and it inspired me a poem.
Thanks to John.