Blog: [dis]_enTpowered

ChendaWrites: America (Original Poem)

“Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?“

-Langston Hughes, “Let America Be America Again” Poem

America

*

We think about 

ships 

rolling and pitching

roiling against 

a vast and rumbling sea

yawing in rhythm 

to the pounding 

of African drums

beats thick

like arms straining

against rope

slicing skin

*

We think about 

the people

packed tightly below

hidden and invisible

like stolen puzzle pieces

like random geometric shapes

a gruesome game 

of blocks and parts

loose appendages

stacked

like Black squares 

of sugar

*

We think about

decks wet

slick with blood

decaying teeth

between brig and bridge

our pristine tongues

licking our lips

waiting to suck

on rind and husk

like red-eyed rats gnawing

on the fleshy cartilages 

of pig knuckles

*

We think about

stories, terrible stories

the deep South

nightmares 

tucked neatly away 

on shelves, in history

concealed within

the deep confines

of our chest cavity

suppressing

the collective shame

of memory

*

The glare of men 

in iron shackles

is as perverse as 

the glittering splendor 

of plundered jewels

as treacherous as 

the snaking smoke

of gunpowder

the dull thud of pick 

sinking into skull

the sharp crack of whip

biting against back

*

Like Gods

we watched

bows break 

on the bones 

of babes

their spines 

shattering easily

like wood in winter

the sound 

deafening

like 

a banshee’s cry

*

We don’t scream

for our hands

choking 

our throats

*

We can’t see

for our fingers

clawing

our eyes

*

We don’t hear

for our ears

sealed shut

and silent

*

But the stories 

we tell

are nagging

they mesmerize 

and hypnotize 

tantalize

and horrify

you and I

as well as 

any fiction

or fancy

or fantasy

*

We fall down

hard

and in the end

we are all 

our own 

dead children

*

The glory 

of battles and battlements

the honor 

of martyrs and messages

is as frail as 

our victims

*

With tears in our eyes

crying out 

for our mothers

our prayers useless 

like waving flags

trying to cut metal

*

Our humanity 

is a choice

a lesson learned

or not learned

a fun-house mirror 

we throw away

*

We twist shapes 

and deform lives

make misshapen creatures

call them beast

distort the images 

of our own selves

*

We play games to win 

but we wage wars to lose

confiscate cargo 

and people 

make them useless

fling them 

away

like spare change

like animals scattering

like burning grass 

caught 

on the wind

*

We trade

magic beans 

for a sow

a golden goose’s egg

a better tomorrow 

for just you 

and your daughters

a pie 

in the sky

as gluttonous as 

a little boy’s

hunger

*

We don’t look

in the mirror 

to see

the faded gleam

of our own 

shining reflection

the pockmarks 

of our faces

the splitting of our rib cages

sharp, like the bones of Adam

jutting out 

from our breastplates

*

We are caught 

so precariously

between 

two

jagged pieces

of glass

*

We look

only to see

the pretty ways 

that we 

can be

the dressings 

we have on

on the outside

are like that 

of a silly bird

mocking speech

not saying much

*

We never learn 

more

than what 

we can

judge

from afar

*

The distance

a cold

knowledge

and unaccountable

like that

of skipping rocks

skimming only the surface

not hitting the mark

but still whistling 

a happy tune

aimless

and meandering

*

Never 

finding 

the end

*

Over 

and over 

again.

America ©2020 Chenda Duong

Note: I wrote this poem to honor and pay tribute to U.S. Representative and Civil Rights icon, John Lewis, who passed away on July 17, 2020. May he rest in peace.