In Rememberance of the Maafa: the Middle Passage

The terror came like a storm destruction like a whirlwind distress and anguish upon my people again, again and again How could this have happened to them? betrayed by their own for a few trinkets and some gems taken away from their families and from the motherland forced to become slaves and property of an unrighteous man Chained together and marched like prisoners on to those foreign ships treated worse than mindless cattle; beaten, branded and whipped crammed and packed together like sardines in a tin can barely room to breath, barely room to stand the stench and disease in that filthy dank place our people dying in the darkness, no sun upon their face some prayed for death others prayed for salvation all prayed for God to end this horrible degradation When I try to imagine the Middle Passage that my ancestors endured I feel such anger and violence which I can ill-afford but this Maafa is something that must be revealed we must acknowledge it as a people so that we can one day heal we must never forget the past nor our ancestors sacrifice their blood is the root of our struggles, their hope the foundation of our lives From the Congo to the Cross from the Middle Passage they arrived from the Congo to the Cross their faith in God helped them survived they sang songs of praise they sang songs of hope they sang to Father God to give them the strength to cope never forget the past and just keep hope alive remember always the journey from which our ancestors derived Maafa, Maafa in remembrance of their blood stains the Middle Passage in our hearts it will forever remain