Try to Understand Me

Poetry • Donte Clark


When them ships had departed from the mother land

For most of us

Our feet will never grip

The soil of Africa again

And that’s why we’re here

Fear struck



From a lifestyle of silk


From them streets outlined in stone

With gold under our feet

On the trimmings of our clothes

To now being sold


So far from what we are used to

Nights view of a moon that doesn’t shine the same

It’s strange

On beautiful sunrise of mornings

Music notes float in the air

From the birds that sing



Them freedom songs

From the green of the trees where

Beautiful black beings

Will hang. So. Freely.

Toes in search of the earth

African people so regal whose been robbed of worth

Yet still hung on

In times of bondage

Been stripped of our names

Our language has changed

No rights

Still fighting and surviving

We have endured so much for us to be here

From the runaways to those who stayed

Passed down our history by tongue from oldest to young

This RICH history they try and keep us from

It’s known best as one of the greatest robberies

That leads to my poverty

My poverty

What you know about my poverty?


This is part of a series of Richmond Pulse stories for Black History Month looking back on the moments and people that helped define the African American experience.

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