The Ink... Poem by Merlin Mwaura

It has been an ink of notion
that my prodigal thoughts
now returned to their home.
the ink in the office printer
on the managers pen,
signing of another contract of life,
the ink scribbled on the book of life.
and now I have learned to chase after words
as if a tap of providence has been opened
to quench my thirst for knowledge.

In the ink,
names of heroes and legend shall emerge
a sadness, a sorrow shall be put to note,
a symphony composed under black ink and pen
Tales of our motherland Africa shall not escape our grip
The ink shall engrave this,
like scribes put to calligraphy,
speak the unspoken art, but the written.
The ink shall do what no gun can do
it shall move people into life.

The ink is pregnant with art,
ink drawings and ink tattoos,
it is what goes on her eyebrows, it is artificial beauty.
By the mark of mu strength, certain words emanate.
We are the ink of my generation,
things get written through us, it is history...
a nature's course,
I speak no divination, only blunt truth.
The ink shall eschew the mystic air
tred unperturbed by villainous arrests,
I shall live by the ink,
and die by the ink.