Do you think your just a human/monster(legalese) when you are of Mankind/a Soul/An Aspect Of IAM, God+Creator /God+Spark(“The IAM that you are/Multi+dimensional being, that is Energy and not the body that is a living Quantum lifestyle and a solace pathway to God+Creator; life’s rippling roar of Divine happens” or are you an NPC robot that thinks it’s the body? That’s why you got to be “Knowing of,“ and grow from ”Knowing it;” because you are always whole yet, you are always filling up your cup at the same time asking “ Is the glass half empty or half full”... to be or not to be self+loving.... I sure you think of yourself.); I send you love and light, so you can better light the darkness as to get that Dharma that you deserve, as an innate soul #Phoenix#vPhoenixe#timetreavel#vtimetravele
They opened their eyes to the red hot sun but never to the blue sky. Yodeling vehemently the black music passed down to their illiterate tongues: "Let us break bread together on our knees; Let us break bread together on our knees; When I fall down on my knees With my face to the rising sun O Lord have mercy on me." The air sang too finding lyrics between experienced, young, new born and adult voices. Their lost bodies and innocent minds, eyes fogged with perspiration and bloody atrocities, harvested in corn and indigo fileds.
Do you know why they looked up? They searched for the embryo of freedom feticide by white folks. They talked to birds hovering above. If they would share their wings Or take them on a flight ? Far far away... Had unanswered questions to the humanity... Their coloured skin were no less than of packed animals, as inside it dwelt the bruises and burnt souls. Hollowed too. For they had no dreamscape. But to go home. Find home. Meet their sold wives. Meet their escaped husbands. Embrace their brought kids. Kiss the wrinkled foreheads of their old and weak mothers. Present few yellow flowers to the headstone of their fathers and ancestors all gone. Whose blood is mixed with theirs as they worked on the same dark soil of plantation. Unknown to tomorrow or yesterday. They knew today was the same caged daylight. Orphans, of their own country. With rivers of pain running on their flesh. Their breathe held in chains. In their sleep of few hours, they longed for a secret death, resting in peace with few yellow flowers.
No more the children of god were they. Bought and sold. Sold and bought again. Fluctuated prices: low and high, traveled them from Virginia to Kentucky. Fist fighting with survival. They loved each others scars. For they were the trophies of their hard work, unpaid endless works. As if they were inanimate. Born to serve the privileged race. The four letter words be it love or life were meaningless to them. The sweat on their face sprinted to catch up the marathon of out cries hidden in their eyes. Indeed they woke up to the sun but never to sky. Indeed they forever slept on the fields but never rested in peace. -Samiksha ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I know it is long, may be too long this time. I hope this does some justice in pouring light how miserable was black slavery and racism in American soil and air. #slavery#pod @mirakee@writersnetwork@john_solomon PC : to the rightful owner
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