Proud Tongue

Proud

You talk some proud

You sound so white

I’ve heard since I was young

When I was just a little girl

I learned that Gullah wasn’t welcomed off my tongue.

A sea of beautiful

brown faces and yet

we’re the lucky ones

Kept hidden from our races

blind before our sons.

Our lips are bound

with wordless chains

We are made deaf to the drums

The hunger for our past remains

It cannot be undone.

Craving words of wisdom

Hands are reaching for their guns

The hollow clap of emptiness

Echoes in the slums.

And now the suburbs.

Word is mum.

So dangerous our silence

when power fills our lungs;

We’ve been robbed of our integrity

We are weakened.

We are dumb.

Until the tales are opened

and the pendulum has swung

We stand mutely by the by

separated

subjugated

done.

~Rachelle M. Turple

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s