Joseph Cimanuka Poems

I am Joseph Cimanuka,
A son of hope and humble light,
Born where hills embrace the morning,
And rivers sing both day and night.
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Half-dead people, hearts turned cold,
Conceived in shadows, in theft enrolled;
Born in crime, in darkness fed,
On stolen wealth their spirits bred.
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The start will always come, mediocrely;
Voices in your back will whisper dismay,
Trying to make you feel black, to bring you down.
Every voice will rise, a word to say,
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O, Death! I curse you,
For you are impolite,
You don't knock before you get in.
Death, where is your pity?
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I am fond of you, Lord,
Yet I despise my neighbor.

I preach your word with delight,
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Africa, cradle of nations,
Land where strength and wisdom meet;
Across your vast horizons rise
Brilliant minds and untapped dreams.
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My son, my love, my dear,
Be aware of your father's words;
Uni is not the universe—do not confuse
A place where you can float without a fall,
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There's a voice at the bottom of my mind,
Whispering that life is a book of pages;
That one day, my page will truly turn
Into a better chapter—it will become my turn,
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Keep your least—do not waste it on the great,
Lest you beg when all your strength has passed;
With your least, you can endure your fate,
Trust not in them, their promises won't last.
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My daughter, use your brain to be wise;
Men give with one hand while the other stretches out,
Waiting for a reward before their hearts find rest.
And after their reward, they run dawn to dusk
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