I am a product of a nation
Which was stung by the bee of slavery
That I am
But that is centuries ago
I was never a slave
I acknowledge the pains of my caught brothers and sisters of my ancestors
That should not drag me
Into caves of self sympathy
Wallowing in the dirt of self pity

When a match stick strikes the cheek of its box
And kisses the stove to light
It has finished its work
It behoves the flames to heat the saucepan
To help it boil its content
So why will the stove cry to put out its flame
For the matchstick which fought so hard
To strike the cheeks of its box
To see it glow?

I am no slave
I am a fortunate soul fiercely fought for
I look forward to the highest of successes
And have no time to be the dirt to be stepped on
I am a liberated soul
And have no time to complain about a shame that needs burial
Why don’t my people see?

I am what I was made
Glowing with sun and moon
My mood has no time to roost on pains of yester years
Let black shine with me
To heat enlightenment
To feed glory to our generations
Traveling through our proceeds to the future
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 20, 2016

6 thoughts on “I AM NOT A SLAVE

    1. We think of you always too Sister Debbie. The problem is, most use the slave trade as an excuse to live in corruption, always looking for aid from the very people who uprooted some of their roots and replanted them in their midst so crudely.
      Neo-colonialism is hampering our progress, complaints outmoded are sitting on our development. If only we could stop these and concentrate, perhaps we can make room for our dear ones like you to come home.


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