Read at Radio Univers, UG. 21th Jan, o7.
This poem goes to all our African brothers and sisters (or any foreigner) who suffered the act of enormous violence against humanity in Rwanda and elsewhere on the globe. With much passion.
From afar i heard a baby cry
Amidst moving feet of soldiers
No mother, no father.
From afar i saw a one-hand man
Laying with bombs and grenades
No brother, no wife.
From afar i felt the wounds of a woman
Big holes in her thighs, sugary tears
No husband, no children.
From afar a girl lay, blood in her thighs
Disgraced by filthy soldiers of death
No parents, no nation.
We murder, we commit genocide
Any energy? Fight the ills
Fight not my brother, your sister
This is not it, fight
Kill black, kill Africa
Be an enzyme, a catalyst, fight
And destroy all the work
Which Garvey, Luther
Nkrumah and Mandela
Fought and built!
Fight! All of it is nothing
Fight, but chaff
And pictures are better.
If and when we would decide to read poetry or a piece of discerning article a day, our world is, then headed for a change. No magic potion whatsoever: if there were, politicians would have used it a long time ago. Our mind is all that we have; the only exception to tricks of all corners and angles. Enjoy the luxury and peace of poetry...
No comments:
Post a Comment