Our fathers and our mothers
Were too tired to tell us stories of
Who we are and where we come from.
Our masters made sure it wasn’t known.
We are supposed to be the suppressed,
Like dust of the ground.
They didn’t need us to know our lineage,
In case we realised the blood
In our veins built up civilizations,
Tore many down, because it had the power.
And power was what we should never have,
So we won’t topple them down.
We still have not been told,
Even long after they have gone.
And our parents are dead, living here or in another world.
So, we still do not know
We have the power
To build once more, a new civilization.
Image credit: https://psychology.iresearchnet.com/
Adaudo Anyiam-Osigwe from her book of poems – A Little Understanding: Poems from the End of Childhood to the Beginning of Adulthood