I recently wrote a poem based on the transatlantic slave trade, which occurred from the 16th to 19th centuries. Since this is such a sensitive issue, I tried my best to capture the emotions of those enslaved in such horrific conditions. This is in honour of the enslaved Africans who suffered unjustly.
Kente cloth adorns his body,
Complete with a youthful grin.
His soul is at its peak of joy, with
Pride in his ebony skin.
The sudden boom of an approaching gun
Startles him in his wake.
Whisked away by pale ghostly spirits
He must obey, for his life is at stake.
He is taken at gunshot to a colossal ship
Upon which the torture does begin.
Week upon week of shaming dehumanisation
Shatters his body and soul within.
He is bid to a cotton plantation.
Months of burning the midnight oil.
Branded. Identity stolen.
Months become years of merciless toil.
His ebony skin – once the pride of existence
Has become a symbol of lesser worth.
He longs to be freed from this cycle of life
But he is trapped on this hell upon earth.