My continent you are a gem
Not a cake but a darling
They scrambled for you because you are not like them
Your curiosity is blissful, intoxicating, refreshing like Carling
But bitter it is to most, enjoyable to those who have been around and gotten used to you
and a pleasure to be acquinted with to those who wish ill on you
as for me, I'd rather you have no flavour at all for even stones taste like dirt
Your essence is what has been tarnished, bruised and hurt
For it is not your beauty, nor your intelligence that should make you proud
Neither your food nor dances that can summon a crowd
It is your mystery,
Your rich history that rests on the lips of every old mouth,
not quite remaining the same as it is told from the North to the South
but ah! It tells a story of a people
imperfect, yet whole
Where loving God and each other has always been the goal
Forget you not these things that are timeless and valuable
These morals that our elders have worked so hard to instil in us :
To love is to do and to be wise is to be,
'A friendship is a brotherhood that knows no end, but once it threads on deceit and the throes of pretence then better all men be without brothers yet keep the company of the foe they fed.'
From you I wish I could drown out all the hate, for this is the toxic thing about you that I refuse to tolerate
exotic behaviour it is for that is not who you were made to be!
- But you are the first of the earth, abundant yet your coat should not shine
I wished you were not as polished as you are now, yes you are the gorgeous diamond that has been
cut to perfection,
but what use are you to yourself if all you do is reflect all that you see?
YOU ARE READING
My country, the prostitute
PoetryWill you immerse yourself with hate untill you die? Wil you doom yourself when you were made to sustain life? If life was made in you then why are you raising death as if you gave birth to it? It is no longer them only at fault but you. My country...
