The Colonisers wanted everything,
and took everything, they stole
your stories, replaced with their history,
their view of you, their lies.
They took the land to grow the food of the Gods,
a sacred drink of the ritual, made mundane for the
homogenised palette and the lying tongue.
As I bite
into my chocolate bar,
my daily ritual,
the new Gods say,
that blood for cocoa
is a fair price.