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we return,
not in holds of
slave ships
but in jetliners
high above
Atlantic Ocean graves,
feeling the ancestors anguish
just the same.
names discarded,
memories stolen yet hidden
in plain view,
black lives did not matter,
restless spirits
shattered
in the dank dungeons
of our psychic
pain.
yes,
we are returning,
we have
a long
lost birthright
we must reclaim.
from GUERRILLA DREAD: Poetry for Hearts and Minds
©2019
The 400 year black space odyssey without odysseus black or brown or yellow; or chaka zulu to lead the people of the african disaspora out of the mad scientific world that fills minds with attack this and attack that & leaves room only for a blank white space of emptiness. Great poem Okantah. It reminds me of Killing Memory by Haki Madhubuti.