The troupe sang, “Once a people walk about
Proud and free, lift up your heads
And start looking around.” Well, didn’t we?
Such a spectacle tempts us a lot
As chains give way to sceptres
And yesterdays foretell tomorrows.
For history’s slave the game isn’t over
Despite shifting to the Oval
From Uncle Tom’s cabin.
His age – old perseverance goes with him,
The legacy of his forefathers.
He now has to keep his word
As his lot is hinged to his promise
That his loyalty breathed to the nation,
The dislocated nation of his naturalisation.
He has the likeness of jovial Jim
Whom conscientious Huck gave away
To his white – skinned captors one fine day
While rafting off – guard on Mississippi’s spray.
Will another Lincoln die for sporting him
Looking up to an egalitarian God’s dangerous whim?
(This poem of mine is from my collection Thus Spake the Hour published in 2012)