It may be buried memories from my past
Though still fresh and striking to my heart
How I wish its effects ceases to last
But anytime it flashes my mind, it makes me sad.
I stopped writing about it few months ago
For it irritates the Jones and saddens the slaves
But whenever I spend time alone
I can’t help it but to write on my slate.
Haven long been a vibrant slave myself
I have seen, felt and lived in slavery
As it drags multitudes to their premature graves
And causes the deceived, lots of misery.
I remember how it had laid a peasant farmer
To his peaceful rest, because he had a cut
But was not able to seek the help of the doctor,
It is a pity, I feel the pains, it pierces my heart.
I remember my mum, cooking in that dark kitchen,
Fanning the tripod stand with her mouth
Tears dripping from her eyes, what a poor maiden!
I feel her pains too, but I look into the future and laugh.
I also remember how dad returns from the farm, his economy
Where he had lived most of his life, he is very exhausted
But mummy still consoles him, what a happy colony!
Butter and sugar, have in their lives, never tasted.
But they always have one thing, that never perishes,
Although, they have been in slavery for many years
They have hope and dream of a new dawn of riches
Where poverty shall no more be their portion.