This is the opening excerpt from personal memoirs S.O.S (Son of Slaves "The Prison Diary"... ENJOY...
('Born on thanksgiving morning Nov. 24th of 1981 to a mother incarcerated, I compare my birth and subsequent displacement from my biological mother to the experience of the africans during the times of being removed from their homeland and ...the horrific conditions forced upon them durin their travel to a mysterious place, only to be exploited and mistreated to the point that out of pure survival we were forced to adapt to our surroundings and eventually adopt the same opressive ways of the enemy ...)
For as long and grueling as the nine month journey into my new world seemed, when I finally did emerge from the damp pits of the ships leaky bowels, my sense of jubilee was immediately over-taken by the burdens of a place that seemed all too familiar. The cry’s resonating off the walls of the concrete fortress struck a chord in my soul so bitter... it created the sweet sound of deliverance. My very presence was a thanksgiving to the pain and the oppression. Granted my first breath of life, subconsciously my eyes remained shuttered by the hazy images of home. From day one I longed to be returned to my rightful birthplace. Refused to accept what was granted to me. My virtue was my stance. My principle was a total reflection of His understanding. My roots lay shallow and easily ruffled by the winds of change. The faces that I encountered were of a foreign descent, with glimpses of recognition scattered about the compound. It was a heavy coldness that blanketed. Its burn was as slicing as a flesh-wound. An agent of mercy was the only constant of normalcy. Hope was the only sanity offered in a world where misery prevailed. Raped and pillaged of my sole opportunity to know my natural environment. Columbused and hated for my ordained compassion, I arrived on this rock. Introduced to their ways, I made the system. Now their systems make me! I’ve paid the price over and again. Covered by his blood and living the verses of those mistreated. The voices sang a song of conviction, "Where did the love go? Somehow we’ve lost our way. Should we fight to get it back, or just let it die with age? Been down for way too long, is it time to turn the page? Just let our stories fade, spread their wings and fly away!" As sheltered as I was, my innocence still wasn’t covered. I couldn’t be rescued by tears! There would come a time for that, but now wasn’t it. Survival became my priority. I pledged my allegiance, standing directly in the midst of the fire. I can’t actually say that I knew the dangers, but death would be accepted if its cause became prevalent. I’ve suffered the consequences long enough, deducing myself to a victim of circumstances for the last instance. My initiation wasn’t birthed through a fairy tale. At times I would think it an inheritance. My fate was assigned towards eminent damnation. My very foundation was a shaky fault, lined with lies and deception. I made a conscious decision to rise above my circumstances. To adapt to the role that was presented to me. Sure I was loved, at times even cherished. Yet, it wasn’t instilled in me to be content. There was an embedded tendency to go against the grains of my harvest. I was in ways a sale-out to my people, selfish beyond His endeavors. Placing upon my life a commitment to be a tradeoff for worldly gains!
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Breaking Barrierz Ent. / Blog
BirthRights
This is the opening excerpt from personal memoirs S.O.S (Son of Slaves "The Prison Diary"... ENJOY... ('Born on thanksgiving morning Nov. 24th of 1981 to a mother incarcerated, I compare my birth and subsequent displacement from my biological mother to the experience of the africans during the times of being removed from their homeland and ...the horrific conditions forced upon them durin their travel to a mysterious place, only to be exploited and mistreated to the point that out of pure survival we were forced to adapt to our surroundings and eventually adopt the same opressive ways of the enemy ...) For as long and grueling as the nine month journey into my new world seemed, when I finally did emerge from the damp pits of the ships leaky bowels, my sense of jubilee was immediately over-taken by the burdens of a place that seemed all too familiar. The cry’s resonating off the walls of the concrete fortress struck a chord in my soul so bitter... it created the sweet sound of deliverance. My very presence was a thanksgiving to the pain and the oppression. Granted my first breath of life, subconsciously my eyes remained shuttered by the hazy images of home. From day one I longed to be returned to my rightful birthplace. Refused to accept what was granted to me. My virtue was my stance. My principle was a total reflection of His understanding. My roots lay shallow and easily ruffled by the winds of change. The faces that I encountered were of a foreign descent, with glimpses of recognition scattered about the compound. It was a heavy coldness that blanketed. Its burn was as slicing as a flesh-wound. An agent of mercy was the only constant of normalcy. Hope was the only sanity offered in a world where misery prevailed. Raped and pillaged of my sole opportunity to know my natural environment. Columbused and hated for my ordained compassion, I arrived on this rock. Introduced to their ways, I made the system. Now their systems make me! I’ve paid the price over and again. Covered by his blood and living the verses of those mistreated. The voices sang a song of conviction, "Where did the love go? Somehow we’ve lost our way. Should we fight to get it back, or just let it die with age? Been down for way too long, is it time to turn the page? Just let our stories fade, spread their wings and fly away!" As sheltered as I was, my innocence still wasn’t covered. I couldn’t be rescued by tears! There would come a time for that, but now wasn’t it. Survival became my priority. I pledged my allegiance, standing directly in the midst of the fire. I can’t actually say that I knew the dangers, but death would be accepted if its cause became prevalent. I’ve suffered the consequences long enough, deducing myself to a victim of circumstances for the last instance. My initiation wasn’t birthed through a fairy tale. At times I would think it an inheritance. My fate was assigned towards eminent damnation. My very foundation was a shaky fault, lined with lies and deception. I made a conscious decision to rise above my circumstances. To adapt to the role that was presented to me. Sure I was loved, at times even cherished. Yet, it wasn’t instilled in me to be content. There was an embedded tendency to go against the grains of my harvest. I was in ways a sale-out to my people, selfish beyond His endeavors. Placing upon my life a commitment to be a tradeoff for worldly gains!
Reply