Playing The Ostrich Poem by Mcanthony Nwatu

We should be careful
Anything that comes to us without us
Bargaining for it is beyond us.
To reject it without tackling it
Is simply playing the ostrich.
One of such rejections is the rejection of self.
There are many of such self-rejection.
The one of concern is with that of birth origin.
The identity of birth origin
Is that of ascription
To which we never made any contribution.
But unintentionally inherited from our parentage.
The mystery that comes with this rejection
Is our self-rejecting us. That is,
When we reject our self,
Who we are will reject us.
Our fate becomes like that of a piece of paper
Thrown-up, falling zigzagged with no precise
Destination to land.
Such is the mystery and the consequence of such rejection.

I am black so that I can adapt
Not because I am negative.
I am short, shows my uniqueness
Not that I am incomplete.
I am deformed, of course, God is aware
Not that I am not informed.
I am poor today is but the present
Not that I am eternally cursed.
Just as today infers that there will be a tomorrow
Today's poverty foretells a richer tomorrow.

But for now, this is who I am.
If I don't accept it,
I can't understand it.
If I don't understand it,
I can't find its tactics and weak-point,
Hence, I can't conquer it,
And I have denied myself that which is constant:
I cannot change for a better tomorrow.