Coming Home

...one day, someday we will find our humanity...

 

 

 

COMING HOME: SONGS OF AFRICA

"Always, there is someone hungrier

than the poorest in America." *

"Some of us know how we came by our fortunes,

and some of us don’t, but we wear it all the same.

There is only one question worth asking now:

How do we aim to live with it?"*

* Barbara Kingsolver, "The Poison Wood Bible"


Africa
AF…RI…CA!
The sound rolls down
the Great Rift Valley
like afternoon thunder.

AF..ri..ca,
Your rainforest taste
flows thru the Congo River
cleansed by the rains of October;
whose ancient name has been lost
on the winds
of humanities primal steps,
yet whispers, "Mama".

Africa,
af..RI..ca.
Your fragrance travels the
catacombs of the mind
emerging mingled with sweet
Bougainvillea air;
emerging mingled with blood
soil that nourishes every space
with life.

Africa,
AFRICA!
Your Frangipani flower scent
entice Okapi dreams of
cousin unicorns wading the
Kwilu River, unafraid
to meet you eye to eye
and ask why
so many die from Aids?
Why so many were sold as slaves?
Why, with so much wealth,
we are so ravishingly poor,
our children bloated with hunger?
Our people drawn into "civil wars"
that have the cause /effect of
"white man’s burden" solutions?

Africa,
af..ri..CA!
The whisper of your name
calls out the shame
of your scatterlings
who have forgotten
your rich red soil,
wild desert sands.
Forgotten your mist giving water falls
and jungle feeding rivers;
your Mother’s touch.
We seem to have forgotten how
tectonic plates collided,
dividing,
driving us out of Eden,
leaving us on our own.
So long ago these Earth forces
scattered us to the 4 winds
but did they have to also
steal our memories and
our life lines home?

"Beto nki tutasala"?

AFRICA,
Africa!
Human tectonics are unleashing
great plate harmonics,
world wide rumblings emanate from
African storms
from life giving songs of liberation
sung by Kilimanjaro winds
that were kissed by
your ancient origins.
Dark forces of oppression
stand in the way
plotting
attempting
to silence us all
to their "new world empire";
pushing us, hoping to break our human continuity.
But African songs still float
in resistance winds sung
in Red Nepalese valleys,
and Himalayan peaks.
They are carried in Incan flutes
that whisper amid Peruvian lowland
jungles, and carried along rainforest rivers.
They can be tasted by cane cutting peasants
toting rifles in Philippeno sugar plantations.
They are formed in the sweet scent
of youthful rebellions that echo
in the tenements and barrios
of the Babylonian beast.

Africa.. Africa.. AFRICA!
Your ancient heart beat aroma
swirls in our collectiveness.
The scent of a new humanity,
the scent of a blue/green Earth,
the sweet smell of home!
Mama Africa can you
Hear us sing?
Mama Africa, can you see us dance?
Mama Africa.. we are moving
and it won’t be long,
your scatterlings are coming home.

~~redzone 12.12.01~~

 

Author's Note

thanks for reading;



captcha: unplaced... in some ways yes, we are lost, unplaced..

Reviews

[Andrea Mouser]

i actually enjoyed this poem alot. So Africa is more of a being than a place.

[redzone]

Interesting thought, Africa more as a person..didn't look at poem in this way.. I am glad you liked it, thanks for your reviewed I much enjoyed your take...

[Sami Khalil]

The place, the mission, the destiny of people scattered by the winds of change, the call of the safaris and sweet scents. You have enchanted us with the song of a wonderful continent...:)..............

[redzone]

Hi Sami, thanks for stopping by and the warm review... I am glad you found it to your liking...

[Sami Khalil]

I did. You are welcome...:)..................