THE AFRICAN

Time is bold

And Fate is strong

Both hold down

The right and wrong

I shall not speak

In ancient parables

Young, composed am I

My soul has no troubles

I will switch this up

Raise a cloud white from dust

Cause ice to rust

Destabilize subtly

Your mental gravity

Tug in your heart a single cord

I shall do so

For I will remind

You of Africa

The land you left behind

You might wonder

How you have done that

Living in her Jungle

Amidst her Thunder

Even the most loyal

Often stumbles

The impatient African

Often grumbles

But works little to effect

The change he would elect

Is this not betrayal,

Of the regal

And unholy sort?

Worse in fact, than corruption

There is a way though

We might move along

Fly, swim

Walk, go

We must master

And march down it

We must gather

Our dreams

And carve a reality

We would be proud to inhabit

We have nations now

Decades old and mighty

In a manner feisty

We must create and forge

Bolts of lightning:

Men, women, inventions

Expand the African female’s

Closely defined dimensions

We must have more

To show than History

Than the past

Than a battle-log of defeats

The ink of our skin

Tells us not who we are

Jungle Thunder

Must we proudly erupt!

And swiftly execute

With the white flag of thought

I will leave

Mama Africa

Better than, she was earlier

She knows this

She watches her children

Far and near

Without any knowledge of fear

She watched, Time and Fate grow

By Usheninte on Twitter.

I am a poet, urban art & lifestyle blogger on Negast.