The Black Curse Poem by Romeo D. Matshaba

Old women are lining in the streets, none of them are glad,
None of them are tired, but one is bleeding from her eyes,
Their necks are turned, backs facing south tears facing down.
One woman points, her skin is sad; with many drawings on her face.
‘They are here' she said ‘they are here'
Men of lighted skin advance without a word,
None of them carries a bow or a spear or a knife.
One of them is Jack the other is Sam; none of them is Peace.
‘A thousand years elapsed, is this all the apes can show? '
Three small boys in arms are weeping; none of their eyes are dazzling
Blue or dazzling green, none of their hair is golden or blows in the wind.
Do not outstretch your hand my hand to touch; our palms will fuse.
If beautiful eye would cry… all color would die. See,
They did this in the west, revolvers in the west
They did this in the east, canons in the east.
They have come to steal my culture… my diamond and my gold.
Our god looks away, or too blind to see the tears they will spill
The misery they will bring or the blood we will cry.
Dear, my afro queen… I have seen in a vivid dream
They will shackle our hands and feet, enslave our flesh in time
But do not tear, heavy chains shackle their minds.
For in my dream, we all were slaves.