Anonymous Anonymous

My native land was filled with the clinging sounds of gongs and Loud beats of drums
That draws both the young and old to a common place of joy
They only thing thing that made us relate with the former.

So much laughter and peace to behold within the dusty atmosphere that held memories of its own,
Every sign had it's significance.
At least we grew up to believe that.

But now I sit and call this a story,
Once upon a time I say, it all happened like a snap.
With memories gradually fading away.
Grateful to God I have a story to tell.

My longing nostalgia is now lost within me.
Struggling to find out what filled the void is my daily routine. How it happened I do not know because they are all lost in the past I can't remember.

The future was what we were told to look up to
Because our past future had no hope, at least we now had a future that was created with our present lives.
All these was now a reality that I found hard to believe.

And then we heard them talking about colours of how we being in their midst made them an eyesore
And so racism was gradually conceived but came first as segregation, this nutured itself until it grew as a being we couldn't see but feel in the hearts of everybody.

But no one could hold up it's flag
For they had no idea of what it stood for, But they believed it to be right in their own eyes.

And then they started birthing it in their kids who didn't even know that the word 'Colour' had a 'C '.
But I guess it was only me who had such taughts
Because this racism spread more than a virus would.
And in just a while our brothers blood started to dry in our hands with tears in our eyes šŸ˜­
But we could do nothing because we didn't Know where we belonged.
We had lost our tribe and nativity and we thought we had lost all but we still had our hearts which was stronger than anything.
Now we stood together so rosa won't be the only one to sit on a bus.

But this even grew bigger than we could imagine even more than
the people who practiced it.
And so we had no choice than to flee with our life in our hands hoping that one day all this would end.


This poem is about: 
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741