To Be Young Gifted And African.
We touch the sky
Every time we speak.
We touch the sky
Every time we love,
and when we love
We love with a fire
That only the gods can feed.
Our mouths are not the mouths
Of the pitiful and hungry
But those of a people
In prayer
In submission
In supplication.
Our love is not the love
Of a people turned away from the Divine,
For we know that there is a better way.
We’re doing it now.
This is the African century.
Come what may
And no matter what is said
In the media, in the depress press...
Don’t they know that we’re in their eyes,
In their tanning and bronzing,
In their boob jobs, in their science.
In their foodIn their music?
Don’t they know
We’re in their clothes
In their jewellery
And in their hair?
Don’t they know
That when we set our minds to something
We set trends?
Don’t they know they will soon watch
And they will follow?
Don’t they know what this giftIs all about?
It is about
Our reclaimed gods
And ancient wisdoms.
Our walks in the hills and valleys of ancestral poverties and riches.
Our gratitude.
Our reclaimed passions and truths.
Our fires in the sky,
Our rainbows that just won’t die.
Our after the rains
Our after the tears.
Don’t they know what it is
To be young, gifted and African?
Don’t they know the power behind that?
Don’t they know?
I hope you know.
(Originally Published In December 2007: Dedicated To You) (Photo Credits: © Mirmoor Dreamstime.com) (Model Used Solely For Illustrative Purposes)
2 comments:
beautiful poem!
Yes, this is a very beautiful poem.
Post a Comment