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White Supremacy
God said: “Go, and have dominion over the Earth”—
Not over each other.
But you crowned yourselves kings of skin,
Painted whiteness as wisdom,
And turned melanin into a mark of sin.
You called yourself the center of the world,
A lighthouse of reason—
Yet every stone of your fortress
Was carved from stolen hands,
And every beam of your empire
Lit with oil drained from the voiceless.
What is white knows everything.
What is dark knows nothing—
So says the gospel of conquest,
Preached in your books,
Taught in your schools,
Stamped in your currency,
Breathed through your laws.
You erased Timbuktu from the classroom,
You turned Pharaoh into a European king,
You buried the bones of Ethiopia’s libraries
Under silence—
But truth is dustless.
It waits.
It watches.
It rises.
Did not Pythagoras and Plato
Bow to the temples of Kemet?
Did not Moses walk the banks of Black lands?
You pretend the drum beat began in Greece,
But it was Africa’s heart that taught the world to dance.
You credit Columbus with discovering a land
Already alive with ancient feet.
So were the natives ghosts?
Did they not bleed when your boots crushed their breath?
You wrote history like a mirror—
Showing only your reflection.
But the Earth has a memory.
And the children of the ones you whipped
Now carry fire in their eyes.
What will you say to your own descendants
When the tide turns?
When they are judged by the weight of your deeds,
When the system you built
Becomes the storm they fear?
What will you say in the silence of your grave
When they ask:
"Why did you lie to us?"
"Why did you enslave, erase, and exalt yourself above others?"
And the winds will whisper back:
Because they feared truth.
Because they feared that the first were never the last—
But the original.
Copyright ©
Chanda Katonga
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