Afrika by Inge Haupt

giraffeI love Africa. I was born there, I grew up there. I would move there tomorrow if I knew that my children had a future in the country of my birth, South Africa. But I don’t see it for them.

This poem always reminds me of what I grew up with and what my kids will miss out on.

Fierce, untamed, feral
within and without
We cannot escape.

Afrika nestled with beasts in our bones
drumming along the beat in our blood.
Our nerves hum with her songs
rhythms pulse in our veins.

Screaming wildly out every pore,
Shrieking, ululating the joy
of our sun, our sea, our mountains, our gods,
Our devils.

Each soul is powered, by the dark heart.
Each voice is deepened, by the dark soul.
Each touch tainted, by the dark love.
We will not be tamed.

Our souls shall not be luminous light.
Our voices not be bright with banter.
Our love shall not be soft, saccharine
for we sweat, we heave, we throb, we sigh.
She flows through our veins
and burns through our brains.

We breathe Afrika.
We cry Afrika.
We live
and then
We die Afrika.

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