Mulattoes and the Transmission of Bio-Terror

(or, what I might say to to the next white person who is just curious about ‘where my parents come from’)

do you know who swims in my blood?

captured kidnapped stolen
packed crammed piled
bound shipped caged
and unfree
infected, and sweating the hot wrath of loss
ankles chained
sharing not words but fear
and forever

do you remember?

some would not go
would not be carried over seas
would not submit to your head count
would not fatten your pockets
would not be bound
beat
raped
one more time

some would steal                       themselves from your greed
snatch                          their bodies from your control
rob you                            of their children’s labor

screams, stench, death behind them
drums of war pounding in their chests
waves crashing toward home
sneak up to the deck
straddle the ledge
hold babies tight
cradled in brown arms round like mother earth
kiss salty cheeks
eyes damp, breasts dripping
whisper reunion
drown in freedom

I bear a message. It is this:

it’s in the blood

water-birthed
bloodborne
pathogenic
spirit-form
from one to one
and each to each

warm, thick, and seeping below the surface
all it takes is one drop

and one drop will make you a warrior

like glass in the belly
like weeds in the garden
you wanted to forget but we spilled into nightmares
mermaids singing you to dust
indeterminate form of the things in between
writhing twisting
monsters and mongrels
sterile and birthing your death
contaminated bodies pregnant
contorting into fiery rebellion

and one drop will make you a warrior

beneath the surface
ancestors speak
old ways
sooner dead than disciplined
because there is no difference between the two
except honor
unnatural
not in your control
mixed blood is contagious, they say

water-birthed
bloodborne
pathogenic
spirit-form
from one to one
and each to each

I bear a message

Sown: the seeds of your own destruction
within the bones of every bondwoman you helped yourself to
we were waiting
beneath the surface
born again
all it takes is one drop
and one drop will make you a warrior

A harvest: of abominations
pretended you saw no trace
no haunting resemblance
no heirloom rage in their faces

it’s in the blood

wrote laws you never followed
lynched thousands who stumbled into the mangled gray afterimage of your own
unspeakable feastings
strange fruit
would you want your daughter to…?
ah, but you forgot what you had already done
all it takes is one drop

hoped We would forget
perhaps melt into bland submission
the Daughters of Africa knew no letters                        you said
wrote nothing down
remembered by speaking
archived by listening
there was nothing to pass on
nothing survived the middle passage but permanent inferiority
pathological and deficient
evidenced proven

but
below the surface
beyond your reach
we still beat the drum you hear when prisons revolt and cities burn
you retell colorblind fairy tales of rainbow futures
but we still beat the drum
everywhere and always
in the veins of halflings and quadroons
our rhythms course
drums of war
steady
unforgetting
old

water-birthed
bloodborne
pathogenic
spirit-form
from one to one
and each to each

and one drop will make you a warrior

you moved out of cities
tucked your children away in privilege
thought they were safe
it is too late
preordained and prophesied
now your numbers speak reckonings
We are growing
beiging your future
browning your america
mongrelizing your race
Tomorrow is Ours

African hearts
red and pulsing
alive
or at least undead
plunged into blue green seas
bubbling cool beneath the surface
as you counted the cost of our final escape
beyond your grasp
drifting between continents through time unwound
preserved by salt
hidden in the depths
carried by currents and flowing diaspora
resistance rubbed smooth
polished
translucent
We are warriors
now perched behind jade(d) eyes
signaled in the twist of a curl
a hint of the Gold Coast in her cheekbones

in your classrooms now
and smiling from podiums
We still clean your homes
We know where you live
We manage your money
cook your food
sing you a song
dance your fantasy
write your theory
catch your ball

but
remember
all it takes is one drop
beneath the surface
not in your control
among you still
though
you forgot We were here
strange justice
chickens home to roost
your own etiquette
peculiar
twisted and brutal
demands the silence that midwifes extinction
Tomorrow is Ours

No, you are not blind
Can you see it now?
Can you see me now?
bodies flung overboard
Truth sprung from the seas fully formed
all it takes is one drop
and one drop will make you a warrior
do you know who still swims in my blood?

water-birthed
bloodborne
pathogenic
spirit-form
from one to one
and each to each

I bear a message:
you were right the first time
We are contagious and We will kill you

- Ayda Sibonakaliso Mwanahawa