And that you speak so saintly
You still wear this skin
And it is not white.
It is the mental crust that speaks
Not the apparent shadows.
They only meet the eyes at day light
And conceal the details of the man.
It’s not just blood that it drives,
The heart cries some more.
So you can be sure that it yells black
When you cloth it in black gown.
I speak to the black man.
Don’t let him say so much of you
Touching the things of corruption
The indecency of your conversations.
Don’t let him see it
That you have deprived the poor of right,
That you have shattered the future of the little
For the pot and inflation of your belly.
I speak yet to you brother,
That blackness be only of skin
Leaving the heart as wool,
Envy to the snow and dew.
Let blackness be of skin
So the little can dance under the moonlight again
And the youth sing love song
And save the dirge for the world beyond.
Written by: Anyi Charles Egbe
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.