The Cleansing

While I was away,
Warring in the Congo, salvaging Liberia,
Ruptured in Darfur, I was contused at home. 

While I was away from home,
My children decimated my lands;
One claimed the river for his own,
Another held unto the canoe at the riverside;
Yet another contended for the fish in the river;
Even the shrine’s stand and fall they fought over. 

While I was away from home,
The lights went out, day like night,
Throwing up thieves in the market square. 

Now, I must return,
Wearing sackcloth and ashes ransack and sack
All greedy desecrators of my land. 

I, the Iroko of Africa,
Whose sons and daughters are great healers everywhere;
I, who teach the Whiteman his language,
And help knit the web to build their world wider,
Now I’m a laughing stock,
Called impotent for leaving my house unattended.

Now, I must return,
To ransack and sack all desecrators
Who pursue their interests in my name.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s