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
