Poet: Muhammad Nasrullah Khan
I think slavery was never finished it just changed its name. My poem depicts this bitter reality.
I don’t remember heaven.
I only remember my hell.
The savor of nature's sweet fruit is soured
by the acid of slavery that chokes my soul.
Experience spanned centuries and continents.
Auctions taking place before years had names,
Part of me became commodity.
I would be pleased to meet
that part I could call me.
Sailed to distant lands,
I forgot my mother tongue.
My mother’s last kiss slipped into the past.
And with it, the solace of her touch.
Her cries wander under tall white-oaks
on unknown continents.
If only she could find respite from sorrow.
If only.
What did those, who stole me, pay?
Leaving me with just enough to live.
They branded my face,
used my story while claiming to liberate.
After centuries I’m still bound.
They pump my blood in the land of oil
and cloud my view with industry.
My return on investment is greater now
I’m a commodity for a civilized world.
My masters are hidden behind smartphones, sex, and exploitation.
My soul is sold in immigrant markets
and job fairs, still slavery came up with new but a different name.
What can be more befitting a human, a breathing yantra?
Changing only shape,
dying with the amputated soul.
Ragged pile of scorched skin and little frail bones.
There's little left of humanity to rape.
Oh, God, let's laugh together.
Let's drift out the lonely pain in our hearts.
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