Black and White Redemption

BLACK AND WHITE REDEMPTION

They called me slave

I called me brave 

They said I was backward 

Toiled long and hard, I did  

to take this world, our world forward

Now they Hate Me

Calling me black and natty

Don’t they know in my blackness

All light, colours and races are encased?

Whole worlds and cultures I integrate

In the red of my blood, dripped over lands and seas in cruel captivity

Genetic foundations for great earth cultures were spread wide

As my African Beingness was systematically uprooted, so too was my body.

Under the orange gold of a Caribbean sun

Poked and prodded was I for signs of Atlantic crossing strain

My transported psyche already beginning to rearrange

Slowly conforming to a biased colonial mentality

Confining me to centuries of unspeakable brutality. 

I AM NO SLAVE but they called me that over and over

So yellow was the bilious curses that rose to my throat

As whip after whip lash connected to my straight held back

That my moods turned to blue as my soul songs died within me.

Only the ancestors saw my plight as I tried to stand up to massa’s might 

Falling many times before any sign of victory ever came into my sight. 

Indigo tints the old womens’ healing poultices used to cure my angry sores

Reintroducing ancestral lore supplanted to these far off shores

With the drum and the dance, African rites that helped us all to endure

These patient wisdom elders buoying sagging spirits

By boldly telling stories of victories lost and won    

We will triumph one day if only we hold each other tight

But my body gave way 

So many like me chose not to stay the course

As time came and went and there was no holy repartee

To my pleas for safe delivery from our collective generational misery.

Violet was the light as my colours retracted into the mystery of death.

What was really the meaning of such a sorrowful life?

I travelled along the long rivers of whitish violet light

Viewing the life I just left and the others I knew I had eons ago

Experiences of vivid colours, reflecting the pure essence of me

That dwelled in my more subtle bodies.

In their energetic vibrations I know I have choice:

 I could follow the colours and go on to other realms

Less dense, less restricted and where I  know I AM NO SLAVE 

Or help the ones I left behind 

For I had become the WE!

ALL of us gathered in the Void, the Blackness of the Mother

The Womb of all Wombs and hatched a plan

That the others left behind would not only  find a way to be free 

But their light would reflect their true soul energy

Of vibrant colours, illuminating the darkest night

And bringing joy to the longest day.

No one would ever again call us slave again.

The Black Mother Goddess had artfully prepared her chosen son 

The pointer man from the Void, the blackness of all Creation

This divinely chosen one, the master painter of the sacred colours

Thrown directly back from the turbulent sea,

Stood his ground firm and solid in truest artistic intent 

To raise the awareness of the bruised and battered WE.

With bone white canvas primed and paint brush raised 

Drew he, the first black dot and ancestral  line

Thereby opening the painted portals of African mortal pain  

While exorcising emotional grime gathered over centuries of time

Come people, let the multitudes in, the work is done

Colonial masters, slaves and indentured, boat people and migrant workers

All who sacrificed for the old world orders

Here is your salvation in black and white imagery

These are humanity’s stories in stark black and white recovery

Drawn directly from the Black Womb of the Sacred Mother of Humanity

And under lit by the White Light of the Holy Father’s Redemption.

Come reclaim yourselves

Face our collective grief and hope

 Reparate our lost and broken legacies

Take only what applies for new energy underlies

These testimonies to a people’s resilience and their awakened sovereignty.

Remember, I was never a slave

And neither were you.