Monday, 31 October 2011

Brown Eyes, Black Eyes.

Brown and Black eyes,
Spirits of dry inanimate souls,
Speak of retired hoes,
That dig no more,
Speak of dishonored bows,
That lost their arrows,
Speak of rings of fire blown,
Combusted flames of sorrow,
It is dark, no wait...It is no more.

Brown and Black eyes,
Visions of tomorrows landing,
Of a plane that never took off,
Visions of a peasants yield,
From a cow that was never milked,
Visions of prospect,
That we expect and infect
our minds with vision but...
It is dark, no wait...It is no more.

I creep into my mother's bed,
Lay where my father would lay,
he is dead...
So I place my head,
On that pillow where her tears would stain,
She opens her eyes,
Brown and Black eyes,
She wore her cloak,
That cloak you wear when you have brown and black eyes.

It is Africa,
Disease and Death is all you see
So we wear it for you to see,
Hunger and poverty is all you see,
So we wear it...
So you can feel pity and say,
"Poor Africa...Poor little dark continent,"
And our leaders laugh,
Your leaders laugh.

My mother...she said,
"My child, I have great pain,
But fear not, we will find bail,
Rest under my mane,
For your father is gone,
I am all alone,
If we have nothing, we have love,
It is a cycle,
And when you can find the point at which its circumference ends,
Then you will have known the limit of my love.

Kavosa Assava

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