On my thick black shirt
Hung my doubts and jargon,
Rough edges with fantasies,
As they lied against Tom
The brother that stood around
In time of need.
Our hair of civilization
Strand in the air like wool
In his detention he laughed
While the strokes of the Jailer's whip,
Rolled around his neck
Beating my reality back from imagination.
Could I have bailed him
Out from the hands of the oppressors
Who took drive of our city
Out of greed to colonize us
With no first intention to care
Too much book they brought.
Efiko
Looked like you know too much
When your elders kept their lips
You spoke with ravaging depth
So they picked us at the field
Where we had exploited our hunting skills.
No sleep for me
When a friend lay in open body
On a bare floor of the jailor's cell
They labeled us scoundrels
But we were only fighting for tranquility
For motherland
Our home our peace.
With the last breathe
All the muscle I could muster
Straight to the jailer's cell
Broke the jinx
As he kept the whip on my back
I broke the snare and my friend
My brother free as a bird.