Ain't nothing wrong with being African –
whether full or partial, you are holy
and whole; throw your fears in the plastic can,
and be your truths, reflect your past fully:
But look to the future, look toward the brook
that drags itself languid over the earth;
as it pulses forward, its veins do brook
the exotic pastures of a wider berth:
Pastures not postures; wider not whiter;
I derive my status from the true Source
in our mothers and fathers who, brighter
than the sun, dreamed our tragic, magic course:
Tragic because self-respect had been lost,
till looking seaward magic sight-lines crossed.
urbansonnets 