And you, chosen one, will also wear chains.
But yours will be far different from the ones we knew.
Your chains will free you from illusions and whisper your real names.
They will be the colours of the oldest poems,
and sit comfortably on your black skin.
Like us, these chains will turn you into a slave,
but your master will be the truth.
When you bow down,
it will only be pure love that you are a servant to.
They will see you in these chains and pity you. Insult you.
Some will be scared and others confused.
As long you see yourself and remember that you are the answer
to the prayers we said to sun.
This prophecy will shine through your eyes.
You too will be tossed in waters,
never to die,
but to return with medicine that the greatest scientists can’t study.
You too will crawl on your knees,
but only because you are one with the ground,
brought down to be lifted high.
It is not poverty that will cause you to walk without shoes,
It will be your knowing that soil is the mother that kisses its child’s bare feet.
Walk gently on this nurturer.
In these chains your body will move to the wind of our breath,
guided and guarded.
A daily miracle is what you will be.
We can’t promise you a life of no sorrow,
tears will indeed pour from your vessel.
These chains will demand all of your feelings.
In you we will inhale the air that couldn’t enter our tired lungs,
tour places that our blistered feet could not reach,
and finally say the things that were held hostage in our bones.
To many of us, you stand here as another chance.
Your chains will free us all.