I AM WEALTHY
FOR MY PEOPLE
ARE KIND AND HOSPITABLE
I AM RICH
BECAUSE UNDER MY FEET
FLOWS BLACK GOLD
WHEN I SLEEP
MY WEALTH FLOWS FAR
WHEN I SLEEP
MY HOSPITALITY S TAKEN FOR WEAKNESS
I NO LONGER SMILE
FOR THERE IS NOTHING TO SHOW
EXCEPT MY CROOKED FACE
STAINED WITH TEARS AND A BLANK STARE
MY LAND IS A BLACK HEAP
MY RIVERS ARE A THICK MIX
I NOW HAVE A CONSTANT CANDLE
THAT HAS CHASED AWAY MY DARKNESS
ALL I WAIT NOW
IS FOR THE SUN TO SET
ON A LIFE THAT WAS SHORT
WITHOUT MEANING
LET MY CROOKED FACE
TELL MY STORY
THAT I LIVED AMONG PLENTY BUT STARVED
LET IT SHOW MY CRAMPED WORLD
WHEN I DIE
LET THEM SAY:
I LIVED WITH LOTS OF PROMISE
BUT STILLBIRTH DREAMS
WHEN I DIE
LET THEM PICK MY BONES
AMONG THE HOSPITABLE PEOPLE
UNDER WHOSE FEET
FLOWS THEIR RICHES AND THEIR CURSE
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id pick this as the best,paints a pretty clear picture
ReplyDeleteThe average African dream is often had StillBirth not because of content, but because Black African Life has gradually adjusted to one of WANT and DESPAIR. My question and I beleive this peice seeks to ask is how and where did "they" get it wrong. Alas! "Our blessing has become our curse"
ReplyDeleteStephen Abolo.
Seems to me the voice telling the story of those unheard people living through painful nothingness amidst their wealth- Impressive!
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