Mullato Or Black Poem by samuel nze

One cannot be short
And tall both at once
You're either rich or poor
The in-between is boring

Mullato does not claim birth
At the bellows and heat
Rightfully maybe on the grass
A hoe perhaps, not likely the furnace

Gray, is this the colour of metal
That has been kilned?
But the brunt of heat
Makes charcoal deeply swarthy

Or else who can say
That the sun of the African jungle
Is not in whole or in part responsible
For our black, black faces.