I am not going to the party
I think the celebration is just a ruse to take from her what she hasn’t given
It fills me with rage so let me project these feelings on to you
Come aboard my poem and let me be your guide
That flickering light you see is the black star of hope, hope keeps it from dying out
61 years and she is still trembling at the whip of the master’s will
She has a long list of exes, each promising emancipation and delivering a chain of debts
These men with their tiny morsels of brain trade her fortune for white crumbs at the slavers’ harbour
Suckling her when this is the era for her to sit back, beat her breasts and relish her benefits
With their slithering tongues poisoning her spirit and diluting the blood of the men who warred for her
None is different, it’s not surprising that they belong to a lineage called the looters
An heiress whose children are clothed in famine and whose feet are accustomed to drought does not deserve a feast
Saying we have a right to Adowa is like saying the children of Nzulezo have the right to quality education
“Happy Independence Day” What a joke!!!
Author : Nayram
Blog : describbles.blogspot.com
Thenubianmisfit 
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