They tortured our women
They lynched our sons
They killed our roots
We had no voice
We had no choice
We were helpless
We were hopeless
But with them , there came a piece of wood
With a blade similar to charcoal
They called it a pencil
But we just saw it another piece of wood
It was accompanied by a slate to draw
Shapes of different sizes
Letters of different modes
Illiteracy was leaving Africa
So we became wiser .
We learnt how to free ourselves
We learnt how to let the pain of the past be
We learnt to cut the enslaved legs and leave
We learnt to trust the mighty pen ..
And it worked .
It only hurt for a few minutes.
We hoped to safety .
We hopped to better land
We hoped to the waiting future
©magic words
#🌐Blue Poetry 2019📒
