In chains I’

In chains

I’m in chains

and pain.

I bleed and plead

as the chain tears

my skin, ocean of tears,

 and tears stream

 down in droplets.

As you carried your cargo

across the Atlantic,

you lost the essential

 human timber;

your passion for inhumanity

flamed with intensity.

In the darkened and drizzle

of one melancholy dawn

you threw a nigger

overboard,

no record,

unfit for purpose, you said

in that conference

with its heteronyms:

 Berlin Conference,

Congo Conference,

West Africa Conference,

you dismembered my forest

to regulate,

subjugate

and colonise.

You’ve bled the forest

of its enchantments;

 its birds’ discordant melodies

hit the grey stars,

and filtered into darkness.

My day’s bereft of sun,

my dish of joy a feast of pain.

My life a shade.

I till your farm;

It’s my tomb.

Heartless, you care less.

You heard my voice in its full range,

weeping for change.

Rape of our roses tears

my heart.

I prayed to slit your guts,

but I’m in chains.

Unchain me. I’m in pain.

Tommy Somah