Who Am I?

WHO AM I?
 Since you ask that question,
It is clear that
You have not read my poem,
Identity, first published in 1987
By World of Poetry Press in:
Great Poems of Today.

The question should rather be
About who have I become.

Well!
Over the years,
I have become
The husband of a beautiful,
 Loving, and caring wife,
The proud father of many
Beautiful, intelligent, and healthy
Black adult children.

You must have seen them, lately.
They were at some of the recent
Protest rallies across the country.
On one occasion,
One of them was right in the forefront,
Carrying a huge banner
That read:
“JUSTICE FOR GEORGE FLYOD.”

I have also become
An adjunct College Professor
And a Tae Kwon Do Instructor,
A lover of all colors.
I love Yellow,
Green, Black, White, Purple,
Brown, red, pink, etc…  

Black is the color of power,
Strength, endurance, patience,
Kindness -- the color of all times
And all occasions.

Brown is the color of unity;
Yellow, Green, Pink, red, purple…
the colors of happiness --
The celebration of life in all its fullness.

White, the color of peace, tenderness,
Fragility, clarity…
What is your preference?

Oh!
How rude of me not to properly
Introduce myself?
However, I do not have a name to offer.
Pierre is not my real name.
My real name was stolen by you,
Once I reached America
And was never recovered.

You have given me your name,
For I became your property.
You have kept
My real name a secret to this day.
Pierre is your name, not mine!

I along with some other fellow
African women, men, and children
were stolen jewels from Africa.
You know… you were there.
You brought us
 A phony version of Christianity,
So that you could deceive us,
Rob and divide our continent.
You took away with you
Precious objects that you still wear
To parade with on the streets
And in your courtyards,
Around your neck, your wrists
And your fingers;
And rare historic and ancestral
Archeological artifacts that are still
Hanging on your museum walls
And ornate your Palaces.

I remember vividly: I closed my eyes
To pray to the God that you taught me of.
You tapped me on the shoulder
And gestured to follow you.
The next thing I knew,
I was in chain on a boat by the shore,
Along with unnumbered fellow Africans,
Also in chain.

We had no knowledge
why we were chained
or where we were heading.
No one spoke to us as humans,
Since then; Not even now.
We became your disposable properties,
Just like the Native Americans
Whom you killed and stole their lands.

My white friend,
That made you a criminal,
A heartless, and cold hearted
Human trafficker and a murderer.

We left behind: mothers,
Fathers, brothers, sisters, cousins,
friends! We also left behind
Our fertile fields,
Our fishing nets, and farming tools,
Our huts and houses,
Our kingdoms...

You beat us when we screamed in agony!
We bled, urinated, and defecated on ourselves
In closed quarters.
Some of us died horrible deaths
And thrown into the Ocean.
We were all in pain
 All along the trajectory,
Unfed and thirsty for days!
We were Treated like worthless Animals.

I remember; you remember too.
It was not a pleasant journey.
And our experience, here
In America, was no different.
For over 200 years,
You called us yours:
Your properties,
Your commodities!
That is why you still try to silence us
By any means possible,
So that we may forget.

When we resist, you kill us.
When we don’t resist,
You still kill us!

And you try your best to divide us
And create new realities for us again.
You told us:
“You are no longer slaves; you are free To go!”
How true?
Are you embarrassed and ashamed?

Not so fast.
We still wear the scars of slavery
 As reminders every day!
 
Every day,
YOU remind US that we are not home.
Perhaps it’s true.
You should know better;
 You knew where we lived.
You still know where
Our families and friends
Live, to this day.
You also know our real names.


You have managed to divide us,
Just like you did us back in Africa.
You called us: African American,
Haitian, Dominican, African,
Jamaican, Brazilian and
We identify and behave as such,
As if we came from totally different trees.
WE ARE ONE PEOPLE,
Long purposely divided by you.
We are brothers and sisters.  

I am the brother of Emmitt Till,
Rodney king, Abner Louisma,
Amadou Dialo, Trayvon Martin,
George Floyd
And the countless black
Brothers and sisters
Whom you defenselessly murdered
Or abused.
 
You may have stolen ours names
But you cannot steal our true identity.
Our unity and our pride are strong.

 We will continue to remember slavery:
 The God forsaken life
On your plantations to create
Fortune for you and your family
 And your kitchen and dining room table,
Barefooted, to feed you and your family!
  
… The pervasive economic
 and social inequalities  
Began right after slavery;
The perpetual false imprisonment
Of young black men;
The broad daylight’s
Police brutalities and murders
Persist to this day.

We will certainly continue
To remember:
The Cross-Atlantic Ocean voyage
To the New World
That we did not ask for;
The evil and inhuman treatment
In bondage in America;
Our continued humiliation
And mistreatment as a people
Because of the color of our skins
Or our country of origin
Also persist to this day!

I am a Haitian,
An African American,
An African.
I am a strong
But kind black African man.
White man,
I am your brother too.  

“The skin color does matter;
It is what happened and
Happening now That do”.

My name is Yonel Pierre;
We are your brothers.
Yp – 6/6/2020