African Americana Poem by venessa ambrose

My african americana
You walk in the ways of pigeons
Dancing disco to our dance of oghene.

You come to the elders with your strange blue legs and long okpu(caps) , discarding our long history of akwa oche.

My african americana
On the shrines that borne you
Do you lay critiques on our age long tradition

Relishing in bitter disdain the piquancy of egusi, in comparability to burger.

My african americana
You embalmed our igbo accent for a throat of sonorous nonsense.

Preferring the Brazilian dread to a history of braided thread

My african americana
You curse at our fierce weather, forgetting it was its tan that made you black.

My african americana

The border of this land may have seen none of me, but my head I shall raise in adorable narcissism.

My waist shall grace the beeds of
Cultural dancers, my hands the staff of my fore fathers.

In my mouth shall I savor the taste of freshly made ofe egusi, flushed down with today's palm wine.

Hot drinks shall I tender at the sanctorium of my ancestors

Bewitching my skin to the beauty of local fabric

The fire wood makes better soup, laced with the spice of flying ashes

And only a sky like mine tends to the growing cocoa seedlings.

I cease to be Blinded by the white images of a dark west.

Cursed with myopic sight of the span of history forfeited by your greek exchange.