My People chose weakness and greed

Over unity and generosity,

Dark, sun-kissed kings  gifted human lives for umbrellas and trinkets,

Thereby nurturing the weeds of sexism over equality,

Prophesying thorns of self-hate over black love.


My People chose fear and weapons

Over bravery and babies,

They preferred ignorance over knowledge,

God’s wrath over His Help,

European bondage over Black Power and solidarity.


Who Are My People?


My People befriended kidnappers,

Drinking the chalice from lips dipped in white lies,

My Fathers then abandoned their Cousins,

Not seeing themselves in the faces of my kin,

My elders turned away in shame,

Some consumed with fear, others with want.


For trade, My People enslaved their neighbors and therefore enslaved themselves,

They surrendered lives and therefore their own was taken,

They removed black souls from black earth,

And therefore, for generations, their own land belonged to the whites,

My People too concerned with competing with white ideology,

They are now forever running behind his western advancement.


Who Are My People?


My People thought they could control the white man’s business

In selfish hopes of gain or self-centered protection,

Their blindness failed to see the cost,

They had traded in their freedom of thought,

Their place of human dignity in the world,

With shame packaged within Caucasian gifts,

That shame is seen today in racism sown by white hands

And colorism picked and digested by black.


My People are a people who stand broken in humility,

Now must prostrate their hearts,

And reconcile with our stolen ancestors,

They shall admit guilt to their children

Rather than hide behind false pride and tradition,

They shall choose equality of gender, class, and color,

Thereby leaving white modern systems of oppression behind.


Who Are My People?


My People are a people pursued by God,

They are a people whose land, far too long,  colonized by whites,

Whose beauty was unseen and hated by Europe,

So that My People might see the same colonization did occur in their own hearts,

And the same blind hatred in their own minds,

Yet God labors to restore their love beyond self to the Beloved Diaspora,

To cleanse those stolen and traded victors with the blinding light of justice and historical truth.


My People are a people looking for peace in class, wealth, and incomplete histories,

However, peace will not be found until they reconcile their brokenness,

Attend their own Sankofa, bringing along their conscience and humility,

And have courageous conversations alongside their innocent and stolen kinsmen.


What Shall My People Do?


Two twin families,

One shackled in body,

The other shackled in mind,

One bond like  animals and incarcerated in a foreign land,

The other incarcerated in their own land yet bond with the same familiar ropes.


My People chose to be the tail but shall be joined with the head,

My People chose a path of cowardice, ignorance, and fear,

But shall accept their invitation to walk beside sweet Family,

The children of My People, to whom I am a member,

Shall choose to submit in solidarity and love to Our Cousins,

Whose Beautiful Brown Souls were wronged long ago and to this very day. 






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