You say,
" I hope to travel there someday"
My friend,
You've already been!
For nothing tells her story
better than the diamonds...
diamonds about your fingers
wrists
necks
each sparkle and glint represents
a thousand black skins
lost to the mining pits;
merchants from across the seas
amass fortunes,
she, a mass grave,
while they cart away
cobalt, diamonds, rubber,
leave bullets to fuel tribal war.
Mythical Mother of Africa,
Lady Mystery,
no Mama before or since
has been so deified
yet so decimated.
Wild, beautiful black child
of the elegant neck
and the pearl teeth;
leaping gazellle to rutting bush buck,
"They crushed Lumumba
because he made them shake
with fear, like the mamba snake!"
Africa is a woman
carrying a heavy weight
upon her head, no time to weep,
trying to balance the sins
of a whole world of thieves,
yet maintain the dignity and grace
inherent to a Queen.
Hear her plead:
"Listen to the talking drums!
My children beg for bread,
My babies cry at an empty breast,
"Where are the things you promised--
schools, houses, hospitals?
The sick scream for medicine, but there is none.
"Listen to the talking drums speak
Beneath my blistered palms."
by: Author Unknown
acknowledging Dr. Yvette Crossing, M.D.
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