My Africa

A deep grief rises within me

All around are signs of a lost identity

It’s not just the jeans I wear

Nor the skyscrapers I design

I look back and find nothing

My very roots don’t echo life to me

Does the Manyatta hold knowledge?

Does the Ankara have meaning?

Remnants of a culture I will never get to see

Colonization governs the land of thought

Steals the wealth of  heart

Count a year and then count 60

How much did we lose?

Nipped at the bud

Never having a chance to become

To evolve organically

And so I build my glass

because my grandmother’s hut was called crude

How I long to see my ancestors

To know what our wealth was

To see these streets of concrete gone

Afros and thatch, dances and food

To bask in the glory of my people

Uncolonized

No shame in our traditions and innovations

Our knowledge

Our continent, a wonder of the world

Too much damage has been done

Much time will be needed to undo

Year by year we will learn to decolonize

Yet I know I will see My Africa

On that day I will know who we could have been

A land reborn

Basking in the glory of a new creation

Looking to the God who redeems all

Then I will see My Eden