... and 
if only i could
if i were to 
relive 
this life
i 
would not be a slave

beholden to the plutocracy
expecting appreciation
for the scraps you gave me

squeeeezed into a holding cell
Humans
Africans
classified as Cargo
chained
crouching room only
the lucky ones 
dying before me

400 
confined 
to the lower deck
chained 
branded
palm oil soothed
sleeping on the right side
to save space 
for more

sailing through
surrounded by two months of 
lingering 

despair
vomit
terror
excrement
sweat and 
prayer
breathing in diseased air

malnourished but desired still
receiving unwanted sexual advances
from officers and crew
Cargo
thrown overboard
if infectious or too sick 
to continue

worth
less than the salt water that claimed Us
a drop in the ocean - useless 
the slavers forsake Us

not knowing 
what is beyond the horizon
but knowing
by how We are treated

Our destinies intertwined
determined, decided
by the
aristocracy

this cannot be
denied love
humanity 
dignity

taken care of
but only well enough
to ensure premium payment
Choice Cargo

We receive 
sunshine in shifts
made to dance
by the beat of the whip
We entertain - still

sold
as if  We were cattle
Kin chopped up 
on the 
auction block
Families butchered

my brothers' life
reduced to seven years
working the sugar fields
assignment to an early grave

your constructed concept of race 
spurious 
designed to justify your disgrace
and you continue
shame on you

full of your meretricious
non-introspective self
unaware of your perpetuated ignorance
you and your far-right associations

and anyone who is anti-Black too
YES! I am talking to you
fear propels your pernicious, injurious learned behaviour
although you would never admit it
but it is within your power to 
unlearn it

and now
I am
contumacious

Because by colour
i am
a
law-abiding criminal 

by colour 
We - who once were slaves
and remain less than
but only to you
with your myopic views

you cannot behold Us

all that is left for you to do
is to try to insult and control Us
to put Us in that old place
clinging to the dredges of 
your banal, anachronistic
social constructs

you are a cliché
pustulous boils
on the history of humanity

This poem is inspired by my trip to the Charles H. Wright Museum of African American History in Detroit, MI on Saturday, July 13, 2024. Thank you, Sharon for putting me on!

Photo by Dylan Sauerwein on Unsplash

© 2024 Samantha Williams. All Rights Reserved.