Grace John


Who I Am - Poem by Grace John

I am a person,
I am a martyr,
I am a lover,
I am a soldier,
I am a guardian,
I am a warrior,
I am a rebel.
I am a fighter,
I am a student,
I am a human,
I am most definatly not a body or a number.
When they took my house away,
When they tore my heart apart,
When they stole my identity,
When they threw everything i was made of,
When they changed my lifestyle,
When they ruined my childhood,
When they trashed my dignity,
The shock and pain caused heartache,
it became my friend.

Missing and longing my home was all i could do.
Work was out of the question,
the meaning of life meant torture and force.
The meaning of freedom was erased out of my mind,
the only pictured was erased because all the pain they put me through.
These creatures dragged me,
tore me to pieces,
all i'm worth is a penny,
sold,
thrown,
torn apart,
by a group of savages.

So i say today...

I am a human,
I am most definatly not a number.

When Age was just a number; equal to any other adult,
Death started to become my friend,
my biggest fear,
was a knock on my door,
One mistake,
One word,
One spoken cry,


THAT WAS MY END.





Uneven relationships turn into wars,
where all is lost.
They say we are westernized,
while all they do is fester?
they will never rest until our culture's become rubble.
When resistance Failed,
symbols were abolished,
spirituality dissapeared,
we stand in the works of capitalism,
I must say this is just another step in another monopoly game.
Where every rebel in this culture will never back down.

They call this a colony?
what about a prison?
My happy ever after ended a long time ago, when i had a place called home.
But that dream faded a long time ago,
when my duty was to get the dignity of my county back.


Where was my rights?
It's time for the world to hear our voices,
when did my motto become color?
Do i have a label on my forehead saying 'named'?
They took me away from my parents,
But when did they become my parents?
Give me needs, but not my rights?

WHEN DID THAT BECOME FAIR?


Enemies became our neighbours,
Friends became enemies,
Groups became tribes,
Tradition was demolished,
Sliced our passions; dreams.

New lands are introduced,
Its even worse that being the new kid in town.
customs, attitudes, rules obeyed and ordered to follow,
commands ordered to set.


TO THE ONES WHO CRIED,
TO THE ONES WHO SCREAMED, .
TO THE ONESA WHO FAUGHT,
TO THE ONES WHO BATTLED TILL THE END,

WE ARE THE HEROES,
WE ARE THE WARRIORS,
WE ARE ALL OUR OWN MEN.


Poet's Notes about The Poem

History is a passion,

When it comes to slavery..
Well, that is hipocracy, and a vialation of human rights.

This is a poem, of a young boy, who was judged by his color, stripped from his identity and taken away from his home.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, August 22, 2012



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