A REPORTER FROM ZAIRE

Posted: July 20, 2015 in Melancholia
Tags:

image

Her palms are sweaty…
His are dry and firm, how can he be so calm?
She is all he ever wanted in a woman…he often quipped.
Why the foreboding feeling creeping down her spine?
 
His mother is loving and warm,
Who then is this cold and spiteful being with eyes that mirror mine?
She adorns her disapproval like a choice shawl.
Why wont the ground open up and just let me fall?

Look at them, who do they think they are?
With accents heavy and thick, they waltz around sacred ground.
In the blackest of silent nights…
Envy waters little seeds of hate that sprout absent the light.

Walking amongst us, feeding off our land…they flourish
Suckling our women and tilling our earth
I say, death to strangers! They will not share our heritage.
They are not us, they never were and never will.

A child lays bare, more bones than flesh…
Innocent in all but the color of his skin and the one thing he could not choose, family.
Old and young, Rich and poor…they walk past the dying child
Who would reach out to the outsider?

Night and day, sun and rain…time races on.
Where a boy lay helpless till his final breath, a seed will grow.
A tree born from blood and tears to shield the true born from the rage of the bleeding sun.

The Aventurine.

Advertisements
Comments
  1. Uche says:

    Really cool, kip it up!

    Like

  2. Aventuяine says:

    Thanks alot mahn.

    Like

  3. Jupiterusi says:

    Where a boy lay helpless till his final breath, a seed will grow… nature itself has no regard for the man who subdues it now race and colour now supporting the hierarchical order. We are Blessed even in our inferno

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s