If I Should Cry Poem by hamid kareem

If I should cry
Would the wind take my message home?
My hands are sore from tilling the ground
My voice is coarse from shouting in the sun
My back is bent and whip marks fresh
I paint a picture of a sordid grotesque shape
My name is Africa, Humbled, subdued and proud
I’ve lost my ways, my trees, and my pot
Electricity churches and mosques take over
I’ve lost my virginity and naivety
Now am wizened way before my years.

If I should cry
I hope the wind carries my message
The message of my travails,
My body is marked from indirect whipping
My hands are sore from holding the biro for too long
My back bent from long hours of work
I paint a picture of fake Hollywood residents
I cry at night silently from my impotence,
Emasculated, I result to greed and cheat,
But silently, heart aching I cry of my torments,
Hoping the air, the wind, the water will convey my message.

If I should cry,
Will the wind take my message home?
I have lost my voice and potency,
I can only come home and cry,
The power of my voice is so long gone,
Who wants to listen to uninteresting ramblings?
My voice is replaced by TV’s and games,
My traditions lost to curiosity,
My ways totally history and long forgotten,
Who needs such barbaric ideas anyway?