Gift Or Burden By Ifeoma Elechi
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Sometimes our passion comes from a place of burden.
#PoetryMyGiftMyBurden
#October2024Entry
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Have you ever wondered what the slave masters thought about the melodious chant of freedom our ancestors sang?
Did they think they sounded like bards, or they sounded like the beep from the heart monitor?
This is the part of history that wasn't told, but truth be told.
I have taken 27 trips around the sun in this spherical-shaped container.
But not for once have I spoken about the burden of the words I speak.
But today I give you the opportunity to decipher my mind like a coroner.
Six years ago, I climbed the stage as a rapper but came down as a poet.
For the first time,
I judged a book by its author and not the cover because this gift called poetry was given to me in a package I despised.
I despised not jumping up and down screaming Yeah! Yeah! at the end of every statement.
I despised my mic standing still like an okro plant in the middle of the stage, trying to take my shine.
I think I am beginning to love this gift called poetry because for once I felt like a star without the gang,
I needed no agitation to bang.
Right now as I speak,
I feel vulnerability flowing through my vein without getting on my nerves.
I discovered that my words need no instrumental to sweet talk the people that I speak fire when I am not even a coal.
Pepsi, Pepsi, Cola.
I don't know if you ever played that game as a child.
More like modern-day rock, paper, scissors.
I mean, the rock of ages gave me a paper and a pen to cut through the mind of my audience like a scissor.
Opening their minds to things that were and things that would be.
I mean, this is more than a gift; this is a burden.
A burden to replace darkness with light,
A burden to replace death with life.
If this gift could be a burden to me,
I wonder if the gift of our ancestor's melodious chant of freedom sounded like bards to their slave master's ear, or maybe they sounded like beeps from the heart monitor.
(Beep sound)
I guess this was a part of history that was never written.
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00:06
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