Welcome to Word Play Wednesday!
Word Play Wednesday is a weekly feature of written and spoken word poetry. I will be sharing my written and spoken word poems in addition to poems by other like minds. If you are interested in sharing some of your poetry, feel free to buzz me and we can work something out. I hope that you enjoy reading and listening to our thoughts, feelings and rants and in many ways relate to some of them.
This week’s poem is one that takes me back to my childhood days and I think this may have been the most popular poem for kids in my country back then. It is amazing that even now, I can still recite this poem off hand. I hope you enjoy reading this poem as I always do.
Africa My Africa
Africa my Africa
Africa of proud warriors in ancestral savannahs
Africa of whom my grandmother sings
On the banks of the distant river
I have never known you
But your blood flows in my veins
Your beautiful black blood that irrigates the fields
The blood of your sweat
The sweat of your work
The work of your slavery
Africa, tell me Africa
Is this your back that is unbent
This back that never breaks under the weight of humiliation
This back trembling with red scars
And saying no to the whip under the midday sun
But a grave voice answers me
Impetuous child that tree, young and strong
That tree over there
Splendidly alone amidst white and faded flowers
That is your Africa springing up anew
springing up patiently, obstinately
Whose fruit bit by bit acquires
The bitter taste of liberty.
Copyright © Biyai Garricks
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