Town Crier
Our paths parted seventy and a thousand years back
I call you to witness; brother’s keepers, lovers of wealth and brother’s killers.
You too, wrecked ships and innocent lives lost in these seas.
Iron ballast blocks counterbalancing weights of enslaved souls.
Shackles In rusty coils
Piercing through naïve skins-
You saw us come and go; Do not keep quiet now.
Graded into three: To colour, To wealth, To politics.
Or even four: To religion.
Propaganda tactics running on fingertips
Money roots held tightly by villains
Juiced out of the blood of innocent souls.
Hunters of wildfires in a dry vast land of religious principles
Now, an inguinal hernia
In society’s groin.
To colour?
We held on to you with dignity!
And gave us the strength to breathe.
The beauty of the shades of hue
Adorned on us
And shone like a bright morning star.
A brighter future beyond the horizon is all we seek.
But for racism?
Will this ever end?
The fight against racism
Is no ordinary playground.
It is a crown of thorns
Yet yields glory
On the Victor’s podium.
It starts with you, and me.
I may be black, you may be white.
But,
How are we now?
And what have we now?
Daavi Emefa
12th June, 2020.
