Africa

we are the dog who caught the game
but are made to take comfort in the bones
beneath the master’s table

we are the wood splintered by iron axes
we are the door ravaged by steel arms
and torn apart so they may take the prize

we are the deflowered virgin, raped
by sailors from the Seven Seas
and draped in shrouds of soft silken threads

we are the abandoned princess
waiting for the man who touched her soul
to return to free her heart in the stone

we are the vast and endless pasture
caught between delicate pale white fingers
that pluck and tiptoe away the smile on our faces

and now we shed tears, littered fragments
of our broken dreams in every allay of the world
while they rub our chests with the fragrance of death

by Padmore Enyonam Agbemabiese

Comments (2)

Powerful. Appreciate the images your words and metaphors bring up.
I like this! Thank You!