On The Shores Of Foreign Lands

My soul wanes
My spirit lives in these grains
Day and night my brows cry
That the greedy master will feast until he breathes his last sigh
My heart is silent now
But I know I will sing my song someway somehow
Someday, on the shores of foreign lands

Our hoes dig
Our palms bloodied with blisters small and big
The pride of our harvest we receive not
Our ransom lays in whips thick and branding solders hot
Our dream will not die as we do
Who knows if the whips which married our scorched bodies will become leather for our shoes, who?
We can only dream, on the shores of foreign lands

Their eyes stare
Their faces are blank but their shadows dance against the fire's flare
Under the watchful gaze of the moon,
Night after night they gather to chant their songs of freedom
They bow their heads in shame when they reminisce with passion their days of glory
When they commanded gods and golden stools
When their bodies knew sapphire and golden jewels
They will chant until the last reed hears their cry for freedom
They will sing until the last shackle falls to the ground, on the shores of foreign lands

by Rafael Yaw Kumi

Comments (9)

Suddenly moving, quietly powerful.
This poem seems both a statement of Victorian sexual mores and a lament over them.
A beautiful poem of love regret.....
To sow into a relationship and lose not only what you have sown but the relationship itself, is so much more palpably painful when you watch the relationships of others bearing fruit. But I will believe she was adorable with those blossoms in her hair.
The good love about the apple tree that gives sweet apples and different thoughts are interesting.
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