Can you hear the African drums that cry Freedom?

Our DNA song stretching throughout the hollows of time resting on the shoulders of our ancestors to pass words of resistance through our ancestral line.

This was the song that drove slaves into the seas to escape the chains of oppression.
Liberating the souls of slaves beaten into submission knowing one day, Freedom will come.

We sang songs of freedom even in the midst of tyranny.

Drawing power from one another’s spirit while facing days of infamy.

Using the stars to navigate our path, not knowing one wrong turn could cost our lives.

Our blood still hears those African drums, echoing their songs.

Starving, their palate grew hungrier for freedom with each step forward

Risking it all just to taste freedom’s reward.

From sunset to sunrise they hid the blackness of their skin from a scenery of hate.

Barely considered 3/5 human not a man, treated, with lesser value than a horse.

The rhythmic heart songs of their elders keeping them on course.

As they traveled down the forbidden roads toward freedom.

Senses wary of threat from land, a new evil met them

The winter breeze carried a smell,

the stench of death from the bodies swaying in the trees.

Tear stained cheeks, meer children hollering for their parents being taken by the klan dressed in their summer sheets.

Freedom, The dream

Freedom seemed like a curse, or an incurable disease.

But through the chaos, we still hear the drum patterns from the motherland urging to endure

ancestral knowledge running through the veins their blood paved the way

I hear the songs they are engraved into my soul like the atoms that I am created of

Knowing one day this to will come to pass,

Wars were fought & physical shackles were removed

Envisioning a new horizon guided by the stars. Hoping this new world would become ours

As the sun rose with glistening melanin we stood tall.

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