The Djembe still plays in the heart of the Atlantic,
When I am well and asleep I Still hear the drum,
Taste its blood like the first whip crack through chest, it never leaves my soul-
400 400 400
Thousand slaves went into the water,
Cruise ship over this body,
No one dares to look up my remains,
They are still searching for the blue heart at the bottom of the sea,
The ocean- corroded in my lovers blood,
And I still feel the Djembe,
Jumping bones, blood boiling, back burning beneath the water,
Eyes still bloodshot at the sight of a clear sky,
I was going to pick up some food for my family,
It was Dadas birthday,
I had pictured a sunset painted in God's canvas as my siblings sang songs to the drum, to the beat, to the soil, to the rhythm of the djembe,
I didn’t know the very second I step off pride lands I wasn't from my kingdom anymore,
Right there just like that.
Don't move... Stay just like that.
That's what I told myself in that instant.
I loved myself for 8 minutes and 15 seconds.
I loved the wilderness of my hair,
the nature of my acorn eyes,
the earth-toned sun-kissed beauty of my skin,
the permanent beauty mark that lay beneath my nose,
and the angelic blossom of my rosebud lips.
8 minutes and 15 seconds...
Amongst the greatest of cities, six blocks from Main Street where the traffic lights flickered to the beat of the street performers, is a crooked alley. It may seem abandoned but once, not long ago, down this alley in a rickety old storefront, resided TheS Alchemist. His store was made from worn birch wood. The old rings and patterns had aged heavily till they appeared like tears streaming down the warped beams. The Alchemist worked mostly in silence, sorting his flasks and elixirs by color and size. His worn old hands flickered back and forth from shelf to shelf with speed of one much younger than he.
Whether from bravery, stupidity, or sense of adventure, it is unknown, but occasionally pedestrians wondered down the crooked old alley and discovered the shop. The first of this rare bunch was a man in a suit. He was tired from a long day and started down the alley by mistake. His body was tense and his face sunk forming dark circles that drifted beneath his cheek bones. He walked with his head held high. His phone vibrated and so he removed it from his pocket only to shut it off, shaking his head as he did so. He carefully counted his money and placed it on the table. The Alchemist nodded and turned around to grab a rounded vial with white liquid inside. He placed it on the cracked wooden table with a bright, toothless, smile painted on his face and directed at the man. The man removed the cracked red cork and sets it down on the table.
"What is this?" He spoke in hushed tones.
What connection do we share?
A bond that is
Perhaps you are a mobster?
or you owe the IRS tons.
Not like, you’d ever pay!
Because your day is soon
You must be a renowned philanthropist,
Who uses an alias, so sacred we dare
Not speak. Homeless children,
Now feed in your name. The gods
Revel in their creation, wishing
They hadn’t made something so
Tossing and turning, late night, can’t sleep
Is it because of that nap?
Is it because I can’t breathe?
Yeah it’s a bit stuffy but that’s not the only thing that’s got me
I am suffocating here within this stolen land that bought me
Not even bought me, stole me as well.. captured me
In my weakness, they destroyed me
In my strength, they used me
Then chose my destiny for me
Without compliance, killed most of me
I was your shadow, your second
hand trade--for everything you
wanted to be.
I thought your light shined brighter
than me but all along mine was
hidden inside my own thoughts.
the thoughts I'd never act on.
Now awakened to my own value,
I need no more to be apart of what
made me unaware. You're the shadow
of my past.
You were what I thought was bright but
you're as dim as the cloud that hovers
over your head day by day. You're some
thing I never needed.