Kente cloth adorns his body,
Complete with a youthful grin.
His soul is at its peak of joy, with
Pride in his ebony skin.
The sudden boom of an approaching gun
Startles him in his wake.
Whisked away by pale ghostly spirits
He must obey, for his life is at stake.
He is taken at gunpoint to a colossal ship
Upon which the torture does begin.
Week upon week of shaming dehumanization
Shatters his body and soul within.
He is bid to a cotton plantation.
Months of burning the midnight oil.
Branded. Identity stolen.
Months become years of merciless toil.
His ebony skin – once the pride of existence
Has become a symbol of lesser worth.
He longs to be freed from this cycle of life
But he is trapped on this hell upon earth.
We are grateful to Little Writer’s Studio for helping us not only with the poem but the beautiful artwork to complement it,by Dinesh Kumar, a Gond painter from Madhya Pradesh