Libya: Slavery in Libya, 21st Century Style - Thanks to Barack Obama

Photo: le pays
Migrants in Libya

Whenever I find myself distraught, helpless and angry, I tend to turn to poetry to find solace. Also because at times poetry can simply express your most inner feelings in such a simple and majestic manner. It can capture one's anger, love and frustrations all in one stanza.

When I look at the dismal and hapless situation black African men find themselves in, in Libya, my heart bleeds.

I'm reminded of one of Longfellow's poems:

The Slave's Dream

Beside the ungathered rice he lay,

His sickle in his hand;

His breast was bare, his matted hair

Was buried in the sand.

Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,

He saw his Native Land

Wide through the landscape of his dreams

The lordly Niger flowed;

Beneath the palm-trees on the plain

Once more a king he strode;

And heard the tinkling caravans

Descend the mountain road.

The forests, with their myriad tongues,

Shouted of liberty;

And the blast of the Desert cried aloud,

With a voice so wild and free,

That he started in his sleep and smiled

At their tempestuous glee.

He did not feel the driver's whip,

Nor the burning heat of day;

For Death had illumined the...

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