Written by Elisha Richards

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The Return



Once, I was stolen,

Torn from the land that bore me,

Scattered across waters that swallowed my name.


But even in chains, I carried home within me.

Even in exile, my blood remembered.


Now, I return, 
Not as a beggar, but as a sovereign.

Not as a whisper, but as a storm.


Black is the journey and the homecoming,

The lost and the found,

The never-forgotten, the never-defeated.



The continent still breathes my name.

Copyright © Elisha Richards. 
All rights reserved.