Poems by Manas Jha

The Colour of Truth

a poem by

Manas Jha

My mother bore me in the delta green,
Where only hatred and rage were to be seen.
And I lay in my mother’s arms,
She kept me safe, away from harm.

Every night, after the heat of day,
She would turn to me, and begin to say,
That we were here to lend a helping hand,
Making a hard living in this foreign land.

I used to hear about our home in Africa,
And here we lay in the heart of America,
And here we lay hungry still,
For a decent meal and a fear-free will.

I sometimes looked back at the years I spent,
I saw nothing but fear, and how we’d learnt to bend.
Hear me mom as I began to say,
I choose to live and not just fade away!

Robbed of all but pride, with tears hardened to stone;
In this pool of prejudice and hate, we had been drenched to the bone.
History was witness, we’d been fighting on arrival,
And now the time was ripe, we would fight for survival.

With youth in my hand, revolution in my soul,
Non-violence was my tongue, but the flame of freedom I hold.
I was the voice of all bereaved of light,
A voice too loud, so silenced by the white.

Here I lay again mom, like those innocent days;
But don’t you cry, for I only die today.
Whenever you hear a coloured cry to be free,
Look into their eyes mom, and you’ll see me, you’ll see me!

BASED ON THE LIFE AND WORKS OF MARTIN LUTHER KING

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Black and White

a poem by

Manas Jha

The fire that burnt inside me
Torched their curtains, clouding your light.
These fake rules and norms
Won’t stop me, from worshipping that which is right.
I fueled the fire, yes I fueled the fire
That choked their sinful smiles,
Awakening others like me,
Who’ve walked endless miles.
So here I lay,
With the foundation of truth,
With the power of freedom,
With the candle of hope
Knowing I won’t go down without a fight.

I sometimes dreamt, that my voice would be heard
For a distance, untold by time
These dreams that seemed so far,
Will finally be mine.
As I walk my road to fate,
Alone but never afraid
‘cause I have you by my side
Till I knock on truth’s gates.

And I tried, and I raged,
A voice unknown to their ears,
‘cause I was the voice of all bereaved of faith
A voice too loud, so silenced by their hate.

As I stood there, voiceless,
In front of a mass seeking their guiding light,
I offered nothing, all but a losing fight.
The words were blades,
Challenging the threads of true faith,
But fading, ‘cause I was weak,
Weak, so crushed, shattered, broken
By the might of those who promised light
And riches of life unsurpassed
Filled with all the goodness of religion
And all the fruits of worship

I lay here, stunned,
This world that seemed so right,
But without a cause.
A world that seemed so great
Through the eyes of a man
Who liked to see that which wasn’t
Than those lies that were.
Had suddenly shown it’s claws,
Betraying the truth,
And siding with the road less travel.

You can’t change the world
But you can always try.
But the little dream of a world of truth and justice
Of righteousness and true faith
All an illusion, all an illusion!

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