The Legend of the Ostracized Ostriches is a poem that plays on the idiom to have one’s “head in the sands”, as a means to avoid what is unpleasant. This poem also debunks the long-held myth that ostriches bury their heads in the sand as an act of cowardice in the face of a predator when in fact they burrow holes in the sand to nest and protect their eggs. Using this imagery, the Black Elder creates an allegory to describe how oppressed populations namely African, Black and Caribbean lineages have been perceived to be weak when we are forced to hold our composure in the face of oppression and anti-black racism. This poem honours the resilience of our ancestors and all the sacrifices they made to secure their own survival and to promise the arrival of future generations.

They may stumble upon our lands
and find us with heads bowed
and hunched shoulders
shielding from the light
and interpret our cower as cowardice
Never to expect us to ever swing in a fight

Heads low,
with a shrunken posture prone to never growing

Heads burrowed,
like an ostrich on a plot of sand abandoned,
exposed like prey on a platter in a lion’s hands

They interpret our cower for cowardice
Believe we think less of ourselves
because they’ve deemed us less
They’ve spread lies through myths
Imply that we simply can’t face the reality
that our lives are worth-less
They decree implicit truths that we couldn’t possibly refute
nor disprove or dispute with fools

Heads bowed,
so prayers fall out of our mouths like seeds and root

They interpret our cower for cowardice
Deduce we must need to soothe our wounds in darkness
Assume that they can pluck our plumes and leave us flightless

We look vulnerable,
so they determine to endanger us,
then request a natural and silent compliance
like they not the ones maiming us

Trust you are just enraging us.

But we bow our heads in the sands
and burrow below the surface to make room, book chambers and mangers on the land as birth looms
Trusting that deliverance will arrive if we can cower long enough to just keep the flock alive

We may not be able to fight or hide from the preying pride of predators on this plot of sand abandoned
Or earn the innate birthright of dignity
bestowed upon those who comply
But just as the days abide by the commands to set and to rise
You too must expect the heads of the flock to one day lift, for our necks to extend upright, for our wombs to expand, for our hips to grow wide and for the strength of the flock to triple in size

So beware.

Even if a century goes by til our eyes meet eye to eye
Trust that we, the ostracized, have run many many miles
and have sacrificed much
just to keep the flock alive

So you better pray that your prey
don’t ever sow dignified roots deep inside
and evolve to a posture upright
positioning us to…

swing in a fight.