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Our Ancestors

Behold!
These are people that came before us
But we curse them and treat them raw

They talked we didn’t hear,
They whisper we chose to ignore,
They gestured we turned our backs.

Their words of wisdom we toss aside like a piece of emptiness,
Their experience we hung in the air like a threat.

Behold!
These are people who nurtured us to a stage of sensibility,
These are peopled who prayed for our little souls to one day become whole .

We now call them forbidden,
For the era of civilization has evolved.

Our hearts now light with ego and darken with insecurity,
Our roots are now forgotten, thrown into the deepest section of the ocean,
Our activities are now foreign and our culture is
Now alien to us and the next generation to come,

Our destinations are now directed to the unknown,
Our lives are now filled with confusion and fear of the future.

Behold!
We watch our essence take flight,
And demonstrate a soberness so forbidden
It is almost comical

We are always eager to fade our flaws,
And wear a body that is alien to us ,
We now inherit a foreign culture which is not our inheritance,
We no longer want to be shaped and moulded,
We now want to copy! Copy! Copy! Copy!
Till we can copy no more .

We now wear fake sophistication with pride
And now practice immodest modesty,
What an irony!

We now overdo and pretend to be the owners,
We now suppress our originality even when
Deep inside, our real self is combating vigorously to be released .

We now toss aside what our ancestors left us with
Burning shame,
And acknowledgement to them becomes a taboo.

Behold!
In the pass we cry out to them,
But we now jeer at them.
I can see their faces wet with tears of hurt,
Flowing over the earth.

Despite our rejections,
I can see them beseeching to our maker
To always protect us all,
I can see them on their knees begging our Lord to forgive us all,
For childishness is running through our veins,
And children forever we will be…

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About Gloria John

Gloria is a writer who loves reading and enjoys writing a lot. She is also a script writer and wants to make her mother proud.

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One comment

  1. Beautiful poem, reminiscent of ‘Vanity’ by Birago Dip!

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