Oh door of no return,
how much suffering you have seen.
Families torn, how they mourn
wives for husbands scream.
Freedom lost, slaves to be
in some far-off land
Growing things, how strange it seems
to leave familiar hands
Tiny rooms, crowded high
horrific site and smell
human flesh imprisoned find
a dark and humid hell
How can humans be so cruel
trading lives for money
agricultural production fuel,
dark clouds—although it’s sunny
Clouds that loom above each one
memories of time gone by
sold for some important sum
now wishing they could die
Through the doorway, sky so blue
but will I ever see it again?
Aboard, will I even be given food?
will I find someday my children, my kin?
Through the dark and humid hall
the door of no return
onto ships that rise and fall
as waves beneath them churn
The ship, a greater prison still,
headed who knows where
conditions aboard shock they will
deplorable…but owners, do they care?
Dreadful hallway to the door
for family how we yearn!
Bound with shackles, feet so sore
but the door— it’s of no return.
Built into the seaside wall
fortress to which ships moor
birds above loudly call
slaves fill up the floor
Little island off the coast
named by Dutch “Gorée”
nothing here of which to boast
only a history that is gory
Doorway into terrible life
language strange the others speak
quarters cramped means life of strife
and our bodies feel so weak
Will I make it? Will I be able to survive?
Will I be eaten, beaten, or skinned alive?
And family back at home…how will they thrive?
Should I end it all now, and into the water dive?
Identity gone, just a number on a sheet
Stripped of all dignity…and humanity
Fear, pain, thoughts of home they meet
Even if nothing else, will I keep my sanity?
Oh door, please close, I don’t want to walk through
For my family and homeland, how I yearn!
But there is no choice, though survivors are few
I must go through that door, the door of no return.
© Lukas Westevy
2008
After visiting the House of Slaves on Gorée island, Senegal