I could start by mincing words then it'll make the story greater,
A people, deracinated from the freedom to slavery,
With thorns piercing our native skin as we reap painful harvest,
The inner thighs of our women ravished by priests who preached peace,
Our children, exchanged for perishable wealth.
Source:
I could start by mincing words but I'm too black to tell a white lie,
Our freedom didn't come from light, it came artificially,
I guess that's why we were referred to as coloured,
Painted to look free , but cage on the inside,
Liberated but still segregated.
Source:
I could start by mincing words we are to black to be belittled,
Sack clothes couldn't define us,we still popped melanin,
Standing out even when fatigue, made us sit, our harmonies took the mantle,
Like free planted in a river , hope was rooted in us forever.
Darkness that outshines the sun, that's who we are .
Source:
I couldn't start by mincing words but ,
Black history didn't start that way.
Thank you.
damian captures
follow
for more