Angola

 

Pale, and with the most savage breath of rum,
These godlike beasts- with brutal whips in hand-
Drove us to the godless hulls, cramped and glum,
As the night hung timid above our land.

An open secret seemed to loom in grief
On that bleak, unforgiving night of nights:
I swear, even the stars above the thief
Shamefully receded their sovereign lights!

And who would dare to help? None. Not one soul-
Either of ourselves enslaved, or others ...
And so, far from Angola's glinting shoal,
Out they sailed ... with children, men, and mothers.

-jwm