(I)
I see them all
The grey and concrete pillars of a continent
The entrails of the yoked in spirit
Sealed here and there over the land.
I see the river courses
I see the patterns of drowsiness at day’s end
I see the crafty sons of black sit-tightism send
Maledictions of a dreary hooting owl to the people
I see them rising atop our Kilimanjaros
Only that they appeal to me now like a quivering flambeau
Nonetheless I watch askance.
I hear the cries and shouts and pattering retreats of panthers
Fleeing the grip of coup triggers.
United by a history of blood, tears and sweat
They fought, jointly and severally, a common foe.
Time past relishes memory;
Agonizing is time present.
I see the toppling of Nkrumah.
I see the greedy and black fingers lording from Lagos
And then veering off to Abuja.
A terrible rhythm is heard in Addis Ababa—
Clanking notes played on bulging vein, bone and belly.
The most passionate propagandists are masters of sadism
Who turn away from us at our Golgotha hour.
Armin’s terror wings through his people.
Here are terms uttered in the apartheid garden.
Here are black activists behind cold metal bars
Here is Vorster. Treacherous are the ways
Of Vorster and his gang.
Time past relishes memory;
Agonizing is time present.
The children of Africa are mine, yours and ours.
Let us rebuild fallen polities,
Submit to heart mending, shun avarice
And prepare a state burial for colomentasyn.
Time past relishes memory;
Subjective is time present.
