My African Song Is Pain Poem by David N. Munene

My song is pain
Pain in me is like rain
Pain is my song
Have sang for so long
A dirge that defiles my lip
A dance that dislocates my hip

How I mourn for the pot
That which never cracks when hot
Which cools water for our thirst
Regardless of which of us came first
Her beauty of black
Now represents lack

From the same pot we ate
And the pot smiled at its fate
We dipped hand-after-hand
Till the pot sat on the sand
Now we shoot from afar
And think no one is with us at par

Selfishly we grumped
Now the pot is crumbled
We have authorised our death
Its spirit is ever within our girth
Look! Our foes watch!
Hark! Our enemies laugh from one couch!

For how long shall we injure the pot?
Stop this selfishness Africa!
You only put your rear on a hot spot!
Don’t imitate America
Else my song will always be pain so hot