It's Not Celebratory Until

Author: Christelle- Barrere-Collet

 

Mama I’m coming home

 

Happy we were playing

In the rain we were dancing

In our tongues we were singing

Our peace they came stealing

 

Mama, promise I will come home

 

They threw us on that boat

Didn’t care keeping the records

For their goal was to brainwash us

Whitewash us

As they Commodified us

 

Mama, I swear I will find home

 

For the home they imposed on me was not really mine

A home where I was called Slave

And today, a Slave descendant

But I am your descendant, Mama

And you are not a Slave but a Queen

 

Mama, I’m on my way home

 

They say they broke the chains in 1835

Yet, they still control us in our body, soul and mind

And they blame us for not being able to thrive

In that mess they forced us into after they broke our spine

 

Mama, let me come home

 

I hate my Blackness No more

I’ll make you proud for sure

I’m resisting the Supremacy despite emotional taxation

I’m unlearning the lies they taught us on plantation

Mama, but where is home?

Where is it that you birthed me?

Where is it the ground I should kiss?

Where I will honour the spirits of my ancestors

Where I have a name and not called a slave

Mama, I want to come home

 

182 years later today

They say “Freedom” we should celebrate

But it’s not celebratory until…

I come home, Mama.


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