THROUGH THIS WINDOW

Pain is looking at a difference, in molestation, afar
Devastation is seeing your reflection in the bins of others
Sadness is seeing minds trapped by slavery
And tracing their roots to yours
Bitterness is knowing it all with a helplessness
That imprisons your confidence
Brewing unshed tears in the sky of your heart

II
When chains arrested muscles of mine
And dragged them like subdued monsters
Through their own virgin fields
On paths made by their own,
Shadows of my mother’s mother had no place in matter
Yet here I stand
Eyes in these tiny windows in this space
Viewing the harvest of brutality
Planted centuries back

III
Who would have thought trapped games could break free
Plant roots to grow stems thicker than their hunters
To a point of jealousy,
Fear of overthrow
To carve acts of rebellion
And plans of erasing bonds carved by decomposed souls?

IV
It breaks this heart to see the colour of her clothes
Smeared in violence
In hopelessness
In crime
In death
In submission to naughts
With the few on shelves mostly bleached to blend
Or made door mats to silence
While their lost roots lie in riches untapped
Wallowing through seas of poverty
Leaving bright thoughts in melancholy
Watching through windows of mock indifference
Oh! The irony of odds!!!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © May 16, 2018

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