What Would Wilberforce Do?
Amazed at an age where men saw the light.
Illuminated by ideas shining brighter than the Sun.
Would he look on in anger or fright?
At years of good work unhinged and undone?
Perhaps be in awe at the evolution of man
While sneering at the lack of character, love Values and basic humanity.
The stripes, he would realize,
Never went away.
The yoke of burden forever holding sway over Men;
Traded, sold, shamed!
Would he weep?
Would his convictions still hold water?
Walking the corridors of power, shouting, Proclaiming, stirring the forces that be to act,
To STOP!
Would he be alone?
Marooned to his good intentions?
Or would roused consciences kindle a flame?
A flame to burn the very hearts of men.
How it all went wrong? He might ask.
In between decades, generations and centuries Of strife, men still see each other as stepping Stones; trampling on the very ones their Delusions betray.
Never halting. Never asking.
Oblivious to the pain wrought over time
On beings beautifully painted by nature.
His, was a voice. A voice that heralded equality.
Of life and right.
His light ushered us out of the darkness.
But alas! The slave has become the slave Master; a purveyor of bodies.
Kith and kin shackled in despair and forlorn Hope.
The shrills have been heard.
What would Wilberforce do?
By ©alexdidi