My mother is Haitian. She attended a boarding school in the countryside for the first seven years of her life. At this school, she was taught to speak French because Creole, the native dialect of Haiti, was not considered "proper" due to the colonization of this country. When she came to The U.S at seven years old, she learned to speak English. Eventually, she learned to speak Creole as well. My mother's multilingual background and interest in literature and global history has impacted me greatly. In some instances, I feel like a "diluted Haitian" due to my inability to fully speak in my native tongue and limited knowledge of my culture.
The brown man kneels, awaiting his freedom.
He wants to know why others supersede him.
His opportunity, barricaded by chains.
Despite his enervation, his will to live remains.
He sought Nirvana which seemed unattainable,
but as night time hit, he had a change of thought.
The mountains was where he found his refuge.
These mountains admonished him “ I will lead you”,
The mountains said “Listen for the sound of freedom”.
The mountains had continued to feed him.
Plans to abscond conjured in his mind, with a machete, chain, and conch, these plans were defined.
By cutting his chains, he emancipated his mind