They look alive
the green hills of African descent,
each resting on
the shoulders of the other.
They bear all green.
They are beneath
a heavy cloud,
which wears beautiful
tinted with white
and some patches of gray.
My ecstasy lies
in the magnificent bonding
between the shiny green
the shiny green
of the hills
splendor of the sky.
makes the world
such a beauty,
that beauty that gives you
to love and life.
I thought I knew them!
No – I didn’t.
They wear things made of wool,
things made of gold,
things made of sweat and blood.
I can’t really figure out who they are.
On that day they came calling,
calling out in sheepish looks,
but with ‘wolfish’ hearts.
They called until their voices seized.
One by one you all will pay for this seizure.
This they said yet no one in the crowd heard.
These decorated obstacles
have gone and seen;
how time is handled,
how knowledge bears transformation…
yet they came back and became blind suddenly.
Who will see for them?
Who has the guts to raise an alarm?
Or have they not been obstacles long enough?
Can we strike a deal for a complete revolution?
Will you be faithful to the cause?
Can I count on you?
But in case you become afraid
or lose interest- Wait!
Let me assure you sisters and brothers of Africa.
Our style of revolution will be different.
There will be no shedding of blood.
There will be no arms to hands,
no weapons of the nuclear lineage,
no tanks of armour, no knives or axes.
All I’m saying is,
there will be no bloodshed.
When we meet,
we shall discuss more,
more for us, more for generations to come.
If this gets to you first, Kwame,
please inform Lumumba and Walter.
And I’m sure they would make this known to Fanon.
As for Dedan, I’ve already told him.
Poems © Moses Uyang
Image: Rod Waddington via Flickr (cropped)