From "Glory to my black skin" Series
The mountain we climbed
The chains broke
Longing for touching on heaven
Haven was far away from us.
The bloodshed of ancient fathers,
A very freedom call that will never be in vain,
How can't I dare to write a good note
To the beautiful home that inspires me to soar.
Strife, anger, and hopelessness were our
marks,
Our black skin was the color of slaves,
Fighting for our culture and traditions,
But all were next to nothing, we remained in
the cave.
A unique prototype of God's creation,
Underrated us, calling us living dolls,
Deep down we were absolute specimens,
Stand on cracked feet.
Our skin made us not respected as humans,
It hindered us to be a part of society,
Bowed down to salute our offenders,
Regardless of their dirty mindset.
Now new dawn is born for us,
It's our glory era, to rise again,
How can forget the memories of my fallen identity,
That scent of victory in colonial time.
Feel like a bee
Flying freely in a eucalyptus tree
Let me dance to the sound of freedom
For our glory back to my black skin.
Originally created: 2023
Subject: Children, Social
Material: Canvas
Medium: Acrylic and Newspaper
Styles: Realism, Documentary
