Marcus Garvey

I'll share my rice with you. I'll share a cigarette
As we watch winds blow past the doorway,
Pushing clouds of dust in front of us. I'll tell you
What I once believed, and you can scoff.
There cannot be a single state of Africa. You're right,
But, while you celebrate, I mourn. What's wrong
With unity? Do you not think the ones up north,
The pinkie-ringers, limo-riders, see no point
To such a state? They come at us as one. They
Always have, and, one by one, we fall, too many
Tongues, too many petty jealousies and hatreds.
In the end, we're chained. No longer shipped away,
They simply keep us working here and take the profits
We have made them home, and, with them, they invest
In craven autocrats who'll do their bidding for a bank
Account in Switzerland, a home beside the sea.
The ones on top, those far away, know how to bury
Differences. That's how they can remain on top.
The rest of us are played for fools. So scared
Of losing what we have, we dare not reach for what
We want, and can't envision unity. You're lucky
To have met someone so dull he'll share his rice.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 76 times
Written on 2019-12-11 at 13:03

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