My Ancestors

My ancestors speak through visions.

Dark spiritual words written across my chest.

I feel it when they burn with anger.

I hear strong deep waters

Just like the waters that hit across the boat carrying

their black bodies close together.

I taste the food that was given to them… the taste of dirt.

I spit it out, taking my fingers and almost scratching out my tongue.

It’s filthy.

My back bends back and forth feeling the beatings.

I feel so many welts

So much blood I drown in it.

My hands shackled together I started to pee on myself fearing my life.

Looking at words jumbled like a puzzle I can’t put together

they couldn’t even read the language they were forced to lose their own.

They are telling me to kill the white masters using voodoo

Create sticking dolls so they can rise and fall back down in the grave with
great pain.

They are angry and upset speaking to me with words of guilt

But I know it wasn’t their fault.

It was a time that killed their inner peace,

broken and afraid to live in their skin

Lord oh lord bring peace to my ancestors.

My ancestors speak to me through visions.