I put on the shoes of my ancestors and great was the pain I felt.
Africa, you sold your children for your reflection.
Your begotten seed lay sick on the waters en route across the Atlantic to estrange land.
The man with blue eyes and a narrow nose took your child and left you with a mirror.
Yes look at your face and be ashamed of yourself.
A stench of ignorance that would be forever remembered with you.
Written by: Elijah Enenche Peter.
©The Night Owl Poetry (2022).
Powerful. My sister & I (white, French-Canadian girls from Calif) went to Africa when we were in our 20's to visit an uncle who was teaching in what was then called Zaire. I am now an old lady. I will never, ever forget that voyage. I so appreciate reading your poems, Elijah. Yes, we will keep on writing!
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Elijah enenche peter
Thu 9th Mar 2023 00:12
Dear Hélène, I'm elated by your remarks. Hopefully, you'd visit Africa again, a lot has changed. Yes, Zaire is DR Congo 🇨🇬 now.
#LetsNotStopWriting