An embodiment of nature.
The scroll of culture.
Am a symbol of a thousand cultural heritage.

Am a tongue with no vocals.
But I have in me meaning to that smoke.

You seek the reason to the strangers breath.

His sigh you wanted to know why?.

Forgetting the season was ripe with ill health.

The heaving of her mother's chest.

The dangling of her blossom when she jumped in awe.

The blood from her father's matchet.

Felony they cried out.

The hour is here.

The wrath of the flowing river.

Night roars deep with agony.

Then the caretakers of history assembled.

Their aim remembrance.

The test of time it has passed.

Alive it was the green beauty of the African witchcraft.

The old man's tune was a memorial to their forced eviction from their fatherland.

Havoc they cried and let out their dogs of war.

Cowed they were in the face of betrayal.

Captured by the very entities whose birth they witnessed.

In a new environment where kolanuts are just edibles and I am just a beautiful object for their walls.

The dead tree cries in the face of atrocities.

Chicken my community grew like.

Rough diamonds they were on a hike.

My story was desecrated and degraded by the idiots I held a message for.

The fools who knew not the true history of their boundaries.

Africa bring back your sacred Artcrafts from extinction.

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


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