Funeral march of Dakar, silencing the voice of reparation,
delving into heritage and culture, killing it slowly
through ignorance and prejudice.
Allowing fruition of a people to fall along the wayside,
choosing to neglect the goodness of humankind.
Serving themselves, marching to tunes of abusive neglect,
daring not to hear the call, the voice, of individual souls.
Breaking in two, casting out the humanity of all people,
dying in the process, crumpling from within, turning gray,
shadows of a people who once had a past.
History now replacing it with writing in the dust, blown
away by winds of fate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
History now replacing it with writing in the dust, blown away by winds of fate. all time choice