Ofentse Mercy Hajane

Rookie - 76 Points (1992-04-23 / South Africa/ Johannesburg/ Krugersdorp/ Munsieville)

I Am An African Child - Poem by Ofentse Mercy Hajane

I am an African child.
How do I know this?
Because I listen to sounds of life long lived.
Do not cite me any parchment of thine god,
For we all know there's no such.
I know that because I am an African child.
When you wake up in the morning,
I ask you not to pray for me,
'cause prayer can never be traded in for food,
For salvation,
For recognition,
Nor for love.
I am an African child,
I know.
When they said hide the truth in the book,
They also hid a lie besides it.
Three guesses what my brother chose!
I know this because I am an African child.
This morning I woke to the songs of my mother,
Suckling from a religion of a bloody god.
How she hates the fact that I have seen her god naked,
And she has not.
I know this because I am an African Child.
I tried once to reach unto her heart,
Maybe to let her know that
I am one less soul her imaginary friend had to worry of.
She cast me off with a curse.
How did that felt?
Not that you would care,
Because I am an African child.
When I stroll down or coming in for work,
There will always stand a black bible fool
Claiming the light he has never seen.
With that I laugh off the embarrassment I felt for him,
Only because I am an African child.
Everywhere my country men wears shackles upon their necks,
Fetters they themselves molded by fear.
This infectuas virus spawned through to their own children.
Strangling them with mental chains
Only because they envy their state of peace from religion.
I know because I am African child.
Regardless of what one is told or taught,
Freedom from or to it should be your own choice.
But nevertheless for me it's never the case.
How can i know?
Because I am an African child.
When voices whisper in the night,
Those belonging to life that bred me saying;
"until your parents free themselves,
You too should remain just as that.'
Deep inside of me,
my own voice demeaned by my 'handicapped' reasoning.
Who am I to change what has been and forever will be.
Life gets better when you are an ignorant fool
And a slave to fear and bigotry...
Life gets better when you are religious.
And how can I state that as a fact?
Because I am an African child.

Topic(s) of this poem: dark

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, December 7, 2014

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