Poetry, by Esther Nunoo

I walk into an emergency room; let’s call this hospital The Land of The Free
Seeking a remedy
That I know damn well that they don’t have for me
Yet still, I sit down and muse
At the fact that their motto is, “bring me your tired your poor…”
So tattered, abused, misused, battered, I take a seat
There is no inoculation for the venom that runs through my veins and makes me spit words of hate covered in the blood of my ancestors
I cannot liposuction the extra baggage of hurt and disappointment
Nor can I have a love and peace augmentation
I cannot have a pain reduction done
I cannot have a memory transplant
And they all see this for the windows to my soul are always open, untainted, never opaque
Always savoring the smallest breezes, the tiniest sign of life as a sign of some sort of hope
As I sit in that hospital room I watch people shiver from fevers and twist from diarrhea


And I wish I could be in their place
Because at least they have one
At least they have a placeIn the hospital there are kids
And words from Chocolate thoughts fill my head because I see lots of kids
"School day, but no school books
Computer games but can’t compute math
Designer jeans, sneakers, hats and jackets
Worn by everybody but nobody has a design to change the misery and despair they live in"
And what bothers me most
"No fathers"
And with every fatherless child I see the pain increases
And it shatters me into uncountable pieces
As many grains of sand as there are on a beach
That’s the amount of pieces I’m shattered into
Because I know there will be a girl
That’s looking for love in all the wrong places
Hoping spreading her Hershey legs will solve every problem she faces
And she will keep searching until one day she gets desperate

And indulges in someone else's sweet love knowing they will come back for it
And thought this love is artificially flavored and filled with junk
She enjoys it while she has it and can't get enough

Because she doesn't know what real love feels like
She settles for less convincing herself that it feels right
And with these fatherless children

And there will be a boy
Feigning his love in order to gain some pleasure
Not understanding a girl’s hidden treasure
So he prowess and showers her with secrets and pearls
While directing the same message to at least 5 other hopeful and lost girls


He has no guilty conscience like a natural misogynist
Spreading Hershey legs left and right
Spilling rivers of life into them, no rubber in sight
Doing what his father did
And just leave
To restart the cycle, ensuring that his people to suffer and grieve

And with this I realize that I’ve been shunned by my own kin
And I’m forced to watch as they commit spiritual suicide by drowning themselves in sin
Because they are all too busy trying to win
A race that will never truly begin
And yet through all this, they still fear me
For though I am attempting to seek asylum I feel their eyes boring into me
Questioning what I am doing on their land
My ability to articulate well seems to make them despise me
And to question my role in humanity

They never thought I’d make it this far
Seeing me pensive made them realize I had a mind of my own
And that regardless of their foolish ways in my morals I was forever bestowed

My virtue, aggressiveness and self awareness for and about life
Makes them wonder, “What could be worth all this strife?”
In retrospect I know I didn’t answer because they are not worth my time
And I know as I turn my back they whisper and criticize my life as if it is a crime
I know every roll of the eyes and every nasty glare
Is a mere lament of the fact that I am an embodiment of what they wish was never there

They want to see me bound and gagged
Not by chains of metal like my ancestors
But of shame, guilt and lack of self acceptance
They want to see me robbed of my culture and my freedom
They want to see me raped of my independence
They forget that MY blood makes THEIR flag RED…white and blue