At first,
it felt like a blessing.
The people rejoiced.
It was as though a savior had arrived
like light breaking through
for those who had long
sat in darkness.
But light
can be deceiving.
Soon
greed
and selfishness
took the scepter.
Now the worth of a man
is measured
by how much soil he can break.
And the pride of a woman
is measured
by how well she can move
to awaken the desires
of men
who call themselves noble.
Am I speaking of Africans alone?
No.
I am speaking of slaves.
Listen
the jangling of keys,
the clashing of chains
history does not forget that sound.
But tell me:
does independence
erase memory?
What of those who crossed the sea?
Not to a land flowing
with milk and honey
like the Israelites—
but to fields of pain
and harvests of suffering.
And some
never returned.
Is this a cry for justice?
No.
Justice would mean
the story had ended.
This is a lament.
Because though the ships are gone,
the journey continues.
Today
men are not carried away by boats.
They are carried
by filtered information,
half knowledge,
and fragments of freedom.
The cage is no longer made of iron.
It is quieter than that.
Invisible.
And though it no longer stands before our eyes
it still exists.
In the mind.