This is not a poem
nor a systematic arraignment of simile
neither a display of metaphoric beauty
this is the dark ode of a bleeding pen
dripping of a nation wounded
manifestation of this drowning dark desire
I come— not as a voice drunk in confidence
but a hidden feint familiar voice;
I come bare, raw as red Chunk of flesh
I carry the wounds of generation past
a memory inscribed on the tombs
of generations yet to come
I come to you a dying weak voice of humanity
seeking a grasp of redemption
as I erode in bit
In this dark age where I am stabbed a thousand time to death
held by different chains of affliction
strangling out of me everyday oiter of oneness, love,
nationhood and human Hood
This is not a poem
this is a mask of anxiety
this is the fresh wounds of a bleeding motherhood
who must lay beneath the ground
the seed of her womb by her hands
Who her own cannot protect
a quivering of a weak heart consumed
Of a nation hinged on colors,
brutality and darkness
This is not a poem
this is adventure in futility to matter
as I cast my gaze to memories past
a lane of a dark skin melanin
with thick dark hair as sponge
who has not known beauty
because her skin clouds the eyes of men
so her heart has learnt only darkness
my friend!!!— there is no beauty in
darkness
The only path that seem right is white
so to matter I burnt in bit every pigment
of melanin until my skin shined white as snow
like the sun it stood blinding the eyes of men
but yet again I felt the grip so hard
of obscurity
a mockery to me for I never mattered
then it stood bare to me
that being black was a condition of their heart
not the matter of my skin
no matter how much I try I was still that black girl
there is no beauty in darkness my friend!!!!
In this day of history I am but a master piece of strive
no matter how broad my knowledge of science
Or how beautiful my performance of art
there is no excellence in being black
no matter how high I climb, I am pulled down by this force
and my only Identify was black,
in black is my darkness—-
my friend—there is no excellence in darkness
While you walk with your head so sigh
I bend so low not have a colition with the law
don’t quote me wrong this is not a poem
on racism but a display of a single story
this is not a studio to paint white black
this is an epistle calling for a balance
for the part of humanity
whose only cause is to matter…
This is not a poem
this is a defeated voice of humanity
a cry in anguish for redemption
this is a letter to that beautiful conscience
that love is meant to be seen and felt
this is humanity calling us back to himself
like a prodigal father his son
this is a reminder of our root
before we are black, white, woman youth…
we where first humans
this is not my voice neither my words
this is me lending my voice to humanity.
The Voice Of Humanity
Faith Akatiki Joseph
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 07/31/2020
Poet's note: A Poem on Racism I presented Sometime back, it's an expression of the effect of racism and what racism feels like.
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Poem topics: I love you, death, father, girl, hair, history, memory, never, ode, racism, red, simile, snow, son, sun, time, walk, woman, fresh, desire, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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