Dreams Poem by Ndeipanda Aindongo

I dream of a past I never lived,
Memories of another life,
Where people stole diamonds and got short sleeved.
And this story may not even be about me
These are probably the words of a voiceless kid in Somali
Someone who may never be honored with a tombstone,
But his autobiography will be a rock
Testifying that he lived a hard life.

This fragile child knows no tears; there is a drought in his eyes
he is oblivious to his fears for there is a yearning in his spirit,
to free himself from a prison without walls
An empty space in his soul,
which demons have turned into a playground.
So he picks up a gun like the other ten year olds
And hopes to rid his country of an unknown evil
All he led to believe is that it's a threat to his life,
A life that is not really worth fighting for.
These are memoirs of an African child,
a son of the land who does not enjoy it's spoils
a son who cannot anoint his head with oil
or even plant a seed in the soil,
But my dream is vague and cannot express the pain.
The struggle to make ends meet only for the ends to be moved,
There are multiple possible endings to this tale,
Some might entail gory details,
of how he met his end on the battlefield
After he ran out of bullets and his bayonet blunted
by the countless skulls he cracked to paint his city red,
Their brains were the only medium he was told he had
so it seems the bullet he blocked with his heart was heaven sent,
It brought to an end journeys yet to be taken.

Dreams can invoke an entire continents glory
And Africa has an especially telling story,
One of legends like Nkrumah's unification vision,
the kingdoms of Kush and dreams exported genetically by kings
Of jungles that inspires fighters to accept nothing less than liberation.
This is the land has taught me that dreams are not illegal
And they are the very tapestry of our futures,
So dream,
both night and day.
for those who dream by day are cognizant of many things
that escape those who dream only at night..