Oh African child
How I run out of consonants and vowels
Trying to fit your description into a page
Your skin, is a fabric woven with the patterns of a rich history
Costlier than the splendor of printed dollars on American sand
Currently, if you were a currency, I’d call you gold
Unable to be converted into anything less than priceless, let your glory unfold.
Oh African Child
I love the way your hair stands tall
The way your locs lock inferiority out of your mind
The way your kinks defy gravity
And refuse to apologize for being tangled.
With every coil you twist the plot into a climax
Straightened or plaited, you are unbound
No amount of relaxing could make your magic chill
Oh African Child
They tried to trace the first footprints of your existence to slavery
But way before iron was invented to make chains
You were the master of fields, forests and ivory.
And just as the sun does not retire during an eclipse,
So should your light never retreat under the shady labels
Of what they called a Dark Continent
Your past might have been dawned but your future is bright
The voltage of your melanin’s glow could never put us on a black-out
Oh African child
I call you the spine of our continent
The backbone of our fathers’ confidence
The consequence of a woke black consciousness
You are rhythm; you channel togetherness like the Congo River
I celebrate your comeback with confetti
Unforgettable like Julius Nyerere or President Tshisekedi
Oh African child
No matter how far the fruits of your labor stretch
Never forget your roots
The accent of your mother tongue might have changed
But don’t lose the language of respect it taught you
For those aren’t lessons we learnt in the classroom
Those are the ABC’s we were raised by.
The love you show yourself should be more than just a fling
I say this because I could never deduce pain to a sting
I think self-love is fire; consuming timidity into ashes
Oh African child
Remember that the revolution will not come from sitting on the sidelines
But will spark the day you act on the hashtag you press on
Manifest the wonders of your God
Besides; before you were ever titled “African”, you are first his child.