A Juneteenth Reflection
My body buckles
Standing at the Door of No Return
In the House of Slaves
On Gorée Island
Spirit crushed by the weight of chains
Breath suspended I can’t breathe
Soul rocks back and forth
Listening to the dirges’ guttural moans
Of my ancestors
As they walked through the portal
Bloodied backs
Cracked open leather whips
Branded buttocks backs faces chests
With hot irons skin sizzling
Not a door leading to
A pathway of hope
But
A door that ripped nursing babies from their mothers’ milk
A door that castrated the humanity of the African diaspora
A door that stripped enslaved Africans of their language sama ruu dafa metti
A door of damnation A door of profit
I gaze across the vast Atlantic Ocean
A watery grave for two million
Those who survived the Atlantic Slave Trade
Arrived on these ghastly shores
Iron shackles on wrists ankles
Metal collars with spikes bells
Placed around necks like wild canines
This is the sordid history AmeriKKKan history
2 thoughts on "A Juneteenth Reflection"
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You describe all areas of this plight on our history…
Sordid indeed, but lessons we can’t forget.