Grandmother! Our sage of our grandmother gathered us Beneath the big oak tree On a very beautiful night She began to sing: Born to gain or Born to suffer Born to gain or Born to suffer She began to utter to us: Great men are sons of good men Whose hearts are walls Weak men…
(Blue) for Sudan
(1) Clutched my heart a terrible invasive grief. One of my father’s calling my skin its own, as it shed cries of mercy. Of a divine pardon. Of an outpouring rahma* to reach the lives lost to the march. Mourning settled in the veins. Of a country that bled in each corner, wounded dreams of…
Float
I’d wake up at night wondering if The mildness brewing would turn into a fight Never asking if he could dump his Insecurity, his anxiety, his inability into you His semen and demons would wash away your purity Your intensity, your decency Baby faced you’d turn to me, wide eyed and frozen When he’d spread…
I Am What Never Stops Trying
There is an unspoken evil, so proud and confident in this land— the one that took away our sons’ and daughters’ lives, made their spouses widowers and widows, their children orphans. The one we search for while peeping out our windows when it has already sneaked its way under our beds. The one installed in…
The sun e sons of Africa
They come here with empty faces Looking for the sun The equatorial sun rays hit their eyes, They blink and find the son, Poised, smiling at their wallets With a hot, hard, black, cocked gun. There is no argument to be had with such a gun between your legs. Between sips of badly brewed, black,…
Oh, Woman
Woman, I see a woman Everyday in the mirror I see a woman And anytime I look at mama I see a woman Wonderful woman, an African woman, mother of nature Yeeea yea Beautiful woman, Yeeea yea Beautiful woman, Yeeea yea Yeeea yea…Yeeea yea… And so the storyteller tells his tales His tales of an…
A Kind Of Architectural Grief
In the place of slaughter blood stains are not an anomaly. Normally, the stain of love begins with a government’s betrayal, a sacrilegious feast on the battered dreams of migrant workers chimurenga wars and forgotten anthems of freedom. a salary and a salt plea for…
Melanin Queen
Her hands by her sideHead downShoulders dropped and eyes fixed on an unknown prizeShe snails by in fearFear of pointing fingers and heart breaking laughterThose words like a butcher’s knife swimsthrough her melancholic melanin skin She wonders if Odomankoma painted her in hasteShe has blood for tearsShe is her mother’s dreamThat moment form the womb,…
Nya Ku Toc
It’s sarcastic how girls at seventeen, Who should have been singing, Baba black sheep or father Abraham, Are singing songs like, He has played me, he has played me. Trashed my heart, took my virginity. And so forth, and so on. And, and you wonder where kids learn songs. This poem was inspired by…