Pelt me with pebbles of hate
Cast me in the armor of prejudice
I shall remain the debris of my yesterday
For the offspring of tomorrow
Must not be awash by strangers’ drum beat
My past is my today,
The ancestors gaze down at me
Faces endlessly stern
I must not trade the beat of my roots
For the rhythm of strangers.
My incantation is not strange
To the pitch of your Hallelujah
Nor the proud echo of your Allahu Arkbar
Are they not both absolute reverence?
Offered to the Almighty God?
Leave me to trail the paths of my root
And dance to its stirring beat
Let me wander in measured step
To the world of tomorrow
Where Everyman shall atone to his conscience,
Not the identity of his religion.
*Abdullahi O. Haruna Haruspice is a social critic and publisher of World Entourage Magazine
Written by: by Abdullahi O. Haruna Haruspice
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.