Treasure Island

Poet Keith Horton


You come to me;
Africa running from your pores
like Mafuti nectar,
cured by indigenous winds.

You see my black strong
through Congo Eyes,
rich and deep as Egyptian Tombs;
alive, like Serengeti sky,
lit ablaze by the stars and the moon.
Cocoa seasoned skin
from ancient trails, singed
by the beauty of a thousand tears;
the bondage of a thousand years-
freedom found in hieroglyphics
burned into the walls of your womb.

You come to me;
Ivory Coast whispers
coloring your bones
like paintings by Chingono.
Indelible truths,
spread across the middle passage,
slide from your hips,
like loosened shackles,
and it is true, I love you,
as the barren plains love rain
and the slave loves free,

you come to me
and Mother Africa
cradles my pain.

Submitted: Tuesday, July 02, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, July 24, 2013

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©Keith Horton,2013

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