Wounded

This poem is about the eternal weight we carry as a species as a consequence for the prejudices we have.

I am wounded.

I can smell the sweat

Of brothers in harm

Who slaved day and night

Chained at their forearms

And I could never forget

Those plantations and farms

Where they suffered their plight

And knew not of the calm.

Some men did stand

And some men had stood

In the way of their slavers

Searching for something good

And it took men of power

And men of many words

To refocus our morals

And resheathe our swords.

But still they remember

The sound of whips on their backs

And cannot escape

That enslaved were the blacks.

 

I am wounded.

I can hear the cries

Of children in fear

As they were taken by lies

Wishing their end to draw near

As they rest in trunks

And sold for sex

Removed from their lives

To be others’ objects

Their tears too salty

Turning the loam into mud

All fearful and faulty

As they taste their own blood.

Lost to their families,

They forget the sound of home

As they tremble in their harsh realities

Regretting that they did roam

Beyond the borders

Where they were safe from the cold

And now they take orders

Either for candy or a blindfold.

I am wounded.

I can feel the holes

Of my family that lay dead

As all their hopes and goals

Wash away from bloodied heads

They were dancing and singing

And part of the Nightlife

Now they are still or twitching

And part of the afterlife.

They were like you and me

All with lives of their own

And the promise of family

And even children and a home.

All over the globe

They are hunted and killed

Or they are prodded and probed

Testing for correction unwilled.

 

I am wounded.

I see death on my streets

And blood in the air

Rampant rape abound

And violence everywhere

From nightclubs to airports

Acts of Terrorism to Hate

Horrors of all sorts

Falsely lauded as being great.

Lives continue to be lost

In pursuit of some kind of peace

A never-ending Holocaust

Til we are not but deceased.

Author's Note

I was inspired to write this poem after the massacre that occurred in Orlando earlier this year. We, as a species, need to change if we are to bring about meaningful change.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I agree. The world had fell to madness.
"A never-ending Holocaust
Til we are not but deceased."
I was a soldier for 15 years and I saw the places we(USA) destroyed. Do we think these people will give-up? Terror isn't new. Was used by the Christians 2000 years ago. I pray for peace and better days. A powerful and truthful write. Thank you for sharing your amazing poetry. Made me think this afternoon.
Coyote

[DevKass92]

Wow! Thank you for this comment, Coyote. I am humbled that a veteran such as yourself could say such things of my words. I really appreciate it. Thank you for your service and opinions.

[Coyote Poetry]

Was my pleasure and you are welcome.