I will not speak of my peoples
nor lay a snearing face on the wrong.
I am part of my people and so this face
bears the lines of shame,
the times of pain and sometimes,
I will not hold my head down, as my
leaders hang my freedom,
as my mother sings a heal song,
as the old and frail stay strong while
the young wither and worry about the
color of her thong…
The youth think they are strong,
but what have you got left in a world
where 7000 get infected by hiv daily,
music lose its relevance when it hits
mainstream, our children stop
believing, fathers were once protectors
now rapists!
I will not speak of Africa’s’ hills and
i am a poet of truth not a tourist,
neither am i an activist, nor a pessimist.
I will not speak of the suns rise and its
because with each my people die…

Selfish, in love, in hate…in humans’
success, in past school debates
wish we didn’t have to choose, for
then we’d have but one line to follow,
adorn a print trait..
Suppose i didn’t speak, suppose my
lips could sing, my voice would be as
melodies as mama Rose, like my
like she did when i was in womb,
child of my childhood, show us the
when a heart knew no scorn, nor
leaders mock!
When complacency came with
abundant produce and Gods grace,
when racist faces found peace, the
colour just but a word,
and my soul…
Our souls
enter twined!
Selfish, like when a father rapes child,
or an uncle turns to drug,
like our love for Jesus Christ,
the aborting girl,
the cheating Man,
like human to earth, like me to you

© Achieng Odhiambo


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