CHAINS AND SHACKLES.

Ours was a death that still kept us alive;
A death that kept our eyes open;
A death that ushered us into labour,
And with sorrowful eyes
We bid our lands farewell
Journeying into a land beyond the great river...

Ours was a death without a funeral,
With no one to pay their last respect
In place of gold jewelries to adorn our bodies.
We had chains and shackles
In place of caskets to lay us to rest,
We had cubicles of misery,
And in place of dug out graves
We had dungeons for our bodies

Slaves they called us, even while we were royals...

Today the times have passed,
The years have come and gone
With this chains taken off.
The shackles are removed,
Yet our mirror image sings
The old slave songs.

Swing low,
Swing chariots,
Coming forth to carry me home.

Even after we've been freed and liberated,
And the chains have fallen with the shackles torn off,
We still pick them up and chain ourselves -
We still scurry off to a land that hurt us calling it home;
We still run to those who stole our pride and dignity,
Begging them for alms modified into grants and aids.

Physically the chains may be taken off,
Physical the shackles may have been removed
Physically we may be free
But mentally, are we?

©Akuvi Aguedze
2018.