From the shouting of innocent souls crying, we heard the melodious voice of Africans.
The quietude of the night gave us the opportunity to dream and hope.
The help of the starlit brought much presence of our great ancestors.
Sitting still, we bleed in agony with the company of the close fitting shackles.
In starvation, we prayed for hope but the only way to survive was to maintain the little saliva on our tongue.
To love was to hate and to be educated they thought us it was a crime.
In tears orphans implored for their parent.
In beating their chest men asked for their wives.
We cherished committing suicide rather than slavery for
We knew that was the only way to join our ancestors in Africa.
Welcome back to your root. Akwaaba.
Written by Will Smith
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