I know the tales of the past
But which one is true,
I do not know.
They said the white ones came
And our elders smiled
Into neck chains.
I heard they came – with black books –
And turned our black skin
White with whips.
Now, mothers – suited – deny the wrappers,
Our men – collared – discard the hoes
Youth – wise – steal forbidden fruits.
But those are just few of the tales –
The many hued tales –
I have heard.
Say, what happened,
Two scores before the millennium,
When we traded shackles for handshakes?
Seven calendar turns:
Squabbles over porridge
Boiling, steaming and scalding.
I was there, I heard it:
Apples defied charmed armors
And made the Fool free in his folly at forty.
Demo. Crazy. Derivation. Zoning.
Slice the cake and run. None will say stop?
Crumbs. Potholes. Darkness. Bombs. Indigenes.. ….
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.