dirty, rusted, corroded
links of the iron chain
hung innocently around
the neck of a sculpture

afraid to touch the layers
of fossilized blood, sweat, agony and fear
Fear so soul deep that one can
smell it
touch it
intimately know it when you see it
so familiar that it cloaks you like a second skin

Microscopic bits of beautiful brown skin
Unnaturally scraped from the necks of the unfree
Embedded in the links
turned to salt deposits and rust
formed from tears of desolation

iron chain
silently guarding the memory of
shrieks of pain, sobs of inconsolable grief and whispered prayers
of death's release

Hanging from the neck of a sculpture
"In memory of the slaves"
It's stillness belies the memory of
disbelieving jerks and the desperate yanks
of the instantly insane
refusing to accept the reality
of human capitol

Its stillness remembers the
stoic, beaten into acceptance
who lay in their own shit
with the iron chain
which now hides the stench
of that shit mixed with urine, blood, dirt
and a bottomless dread

iron chain transporting, enslaving
beautiful brown bodies
beautiful black souls
each link forging the
supreme weapon of black death
destroying a mass of bodies, minds,
hearts and hope
ahead of time.

Now hanging from the neck of a
sculpture
harmless.

* Nafeesa T. Nichols, a performer and poet, is also a scholar of South African literature and music and a Pan African activist.

**Please send comments to or comment online at www.pambazuka.org