~New Poem


Bound, chained, shackled 
viscously tossed into vessels 

Not like the ones used for fishing 
no likeness to those I’ve seen for cargo

Me, my brothers, my parents 
and other kin, joined as one
by neck-bracelets 
anklet, and armlet
deliberately yanked and tugged at
  
Packed into compartments 
like carcasses of dead animals
more like anchovies to be sold
at a market on another side of the world

hushed with lashing strikes
no drums to echo our distress
absent from land and emerged in pain

dark, filthy ship
we try to rest in its belly
lie still as possible 
in our own messes
feces swishing about
like sea-sick waves
drunken from the stench
life whirling about our heads
a dry-heave instability growing
  
Stronger young men  
with noble fight in their hearts 
against our capturers 
shot and killed 
resistance their foe
Others thrown over board
or jumped 
there were those
that preferred death 

entering womanhood 
twelve years old
witnessing these dark events 
makes a bitter leaf to chew
but nourishment and drive
will spare my soul 

I am sixteen
my owners call me Kelsie
My true name is 
Kizmete Nzelibe Moranga 
the granddaughter 
of a Nigerian King  
I no longer feel 
like royalty
  
Three sons have been born
All from master’s penis  
I have not taken my life 
because I wish to live another generation 
to witness destruction of this atrocity
the freedom my children will enjoy  

This America is 
a dead end from my long journey 
across the waters to nowhere
I yearn 
for mixed-green grasslands of Afrika  
Long to sit beneath our sycamore 
planted by the brook
in beauteous yonder garden 

I pray to again capture in awe 
beaming sunsets of yesterday
risen mornings of that same sun  
and stars that pitch themselves 
through blue ink nights
All of nature's beauty
beautifully adorns the Earth there 

How long can it be
until the pilgrimage is made
I want to go home

(Thought this was home)