Dear African Child

do you not see, your skin is gold
unga cabanga ukuthi your culture will ever grow old.
bask your soul in the morula sun until you sweat away this fear.
strip your mind from inferiority & hang your heart dry from crocodile tears.

dear African Child
do you remember? the simpler days
before the cars and the and sky high buildings
when your knees would gracefully meet your ancestors and make peace with the earth.
when you danced freely to the African drum
when you sat around the fire, reciting tales of what’s to come.

but African Child.
do you remember the day he arrived?
on his wondering bark, led to you by the star.
with a book that was said to be the word, the word that would enslave  you.
his voice bouncing off your tender blessed mind with so called knowledge.
his eyes, tinted like the seas.
his blink blew gale winds, though he came “in peace”.

do you remember
when you ruled over your father’s land
until he said there’s only one father and he holds us in his hand.
he came with promises of spiritual strength.
do you recall that he held the bible and you had the land.
but you closed your eyes to pray, when you restored your vision suddenly you had the bible, and he had the land?