A Poem From Rome

by Zamounde Allie

In to the Sistina Chapala I'd went
In the room of stolen Africa I spent
Observing our history through a glass fence
Forever taken away from us and their's ever since
Through the many corridors and steps
I walked looking for signs from the architecture
That showed how from Kemet came the Roman empire
Do you know this I'd asked a black priest
But that language barrier could not hide
His lack of true pride
Tales from the east
Powerfully inspire
I'd answered for him that he probably knew
With an ultimate plan to plant a visible clue
Out in the open for public view
Onward through the halls I kept
Taking physical/mental pictures of the plot
That stole from a world long forgot
'Bout the time I'd stepped into the garden
I'd stood in front of a golden globe
Peered back at the Sixteenth Chapel
And said that this was a big piece of the apple
I'd continued onward through the city
Seen some happy faces & some with pity
I'd walked with the tour, but stepped off on my own
Looking to dig up some African bone
That would tell my spirit where to go
I'd went to where Caesar was burned
I'd walked and steadily learned
I'd stood at the monument of the man
That sent Jesus home
I'm just about finished with Rome
It rained on me in a sudden down pour
I ran looking for a dry place to score
Later in the Vatican I'd arrived
Wondered how long the Pope has survived
As he struggled pass me
I'd snapped a couple of pictures
I thought could he really see
Or does he by heart know this huge structure
People of all so-called races
Of all shades of faces
Came, sat, stood, and even stampeded
Looking for an opportuned location
As the tired old man proceeded
People chanted spiritual provocation
The lights went out with candles lit
And bright flashes of light illegally spit
Destroying the effect of the liturgy
I stood there only out of curiousity
The shear power I could not disrespect
But the double meaning of the city I'd object
Give on to God what is God's
And on to man what is man's
So give us back what came from our African land
I'd left early but it was late
Full mooned night
Cloudly but peacefully bright
I reflected back on the whole day
Backpack full of post card memories
I dreamt of the day with positive energies

My most remembered thoughts:

African, African don't run from the Finance cop
I'd like to see what you got
 So just for a minute stop

Hey black priest do you really believe
Or are you just anotha' fallen tree

We are everywhere
Even if we don't know it

I'll never be able to soak this all in,
Just like when I was in Eygpt (Kemet)

I wish all the people I know could be here too

I should have wrote that thought down,
that could've been a powerful poetry line

A Poem From Rome by Zamounde Allie

© Copyright 1998. 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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