Poem For Africa

by Mwatabu Okantah

oh Africa,
so many would seduce you,
so many would make you
the harlot of all the lands.

oh Africa,
which way will you choose?
money lust will destroy you.
vampires already
taste your black blood.
corporate vultures circle.
they smell green death in your air.

Africa, my Africa,
what good is progress
when ancient traditions give way
to white hot madness,
when virtue runs like oil
between the legs of your daughters
turned street walkers
wandering in port city nights?

Africa, my Africa,
hear our cries.
hear your dispersed children turned
New World ghetto dwellers.
we know the pale menacing glare.
we know the road
we see you now
determined to travel.

Africa, my Africa,
Mother Father Africa,
even in America
Dada sings freedom wake up
songs for you--
neither centuries
nor distance
not even our own demon
can deny you
still live
in the center of our days.

Africa, my Africa,
we come home
to you,
to embrace you,
your power,
to sink our roots back into
your profound brown
navel of the earth

our face
is your face
is the same face:

we are


Poem For Africa by Mwatabu Okantah

© Copyright 2001. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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