Poem: I Curse These Chains That Bind Us. 
Mine is a story of struggle. A story of pain. A tale of faded glory. Mine is a blessing and a curse.
The blessing lies beneath my feet in the soil as minerals, while the curse is the color of my skin. A curse which I brought upon myself through my liberal nature.
The blessing lies beneath my feet in the soil as minerals, while the curse is the color of my skin. A curse which I brought upon myself through my liberal nature.
They say I love to play the victim, but deep down they do not understand the scars that I bear – scars that can never be concealed.
Though I try to awaken the God in me, my brethren let go of their guard in self-induced laziness. Laziness that eats the mind like a maggot, steady reassuring it that all things must die, and as such less care must be given to the destination of our race.
My reality is that of a people who decorate themselves with expensive fetters – chains made of Gold. As the years go by I become a passing shadow of what I am meant to be. I become a fading manifestation of the promise I held.
Is there hope on the horizon? Well, that question is one I would love to direct to the Gods, but I am afraid they have abandoned us. In their anger for the insults we heaped on them, they punish us with their silence.
We call and call; they hear us, but they laugh thunderously as they wine and dine in the confines of their realm. We are lost to them. We who once walked with our Gods are now in Chains worshiping foreign Gods.
When will we awaken and realize that in our open mindedness and liberal nature we have placed ourselves on an irredeemable path?
When will we realize that we are the only non-aggressive race in the planet? When will we stop being the hunted? When will we gain our freedom again?
By Chuka Nduneseokwu
By Chuka Nduneseokwu
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