Am Your Brother Despite

What of the brother?
The iron manacle by the neck
The long trammel hauling our preen
The shackles on the feet

For africa I clamour
While you sit and rest in the summer
Tired of it all, for restful death I cry
The only solace from the sky

The juvinile poet, your brother
From the conciever of the earth, our father
For our land, I vociferate
Like a vexed man, I cogitate

Of the day I will cuddle
On your white skin to huddle

by RONALD K SSEKAJJA

Other poems of K SSEKAJJA (38)

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