New Harvest

New flowers blossom from the bottom of

Trans-Atlantic scars.

Visible, and pivotal

pure expression with art.

Past generations, it was sink or float

Let the waves carry.

They only had

Hope.

The seeds that were planted by the ones gone before us

start to germinate in the fields that once tore us.

Each new generation reaps what was sewed.

New harvests of greatness,

New harvests of

Hope.

We’ve had to stay intact

through influence and impact.

There’s beautiful irony

in a bright future,

that’s been black.

by Kenechukwu Obienu