Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!

The Warrior in Me

The blood of a Warrior
runs warm in my veins.
The blood of a Warrior
who harvested grains
And endured the pains of
the whips and the chains
Now flows through my brain,
but I'm not ashamed.

Similar genes do I share with the Kings
And the Warriors who once had
the freedom to sing
The hymns of their homeland,
where freedom could ring.

I've also inherited the
bulk of the feelings
Of prisoners made slaves in
the midst of the dealings
Of the slavemaster's rapings and
whippings and killing
Of those mighty warriors who
weren't so willing

To be shackled and placed
In the botom of ships sharing limited space
In which they could breathe.
They were often decieved by the
tongues of the thieves
And were sentenced to breathe in
the land of the free.

When they cried out for mercy,
there was none in store
They were beaten till sores
were more common than pores
On the skin, and the women regarded
as whores.

Then Freedom's door was unlocked by a war
But it led to new perils not present before
Such as men in white robes who could not
be ignored.

But the biggest of tasks that
my ancestors had
Was to look towards the future
and bury the past.
I'm part of that future,
and still it is vast.
Now I'm fighting the battle
and won't be the last.

Written by Maurice Dow


Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge