Forgive me my country
I danced to your funeral
the day you were born
I do not hate
but why would you be born
in the corridors of ants and lizards?
Washed in shame
in the tears
of monkeys and baboons
Baptized in lies
in the name of the white god
whose priest is adorned in stained cassock
In the parlours of fury
you grew
appearing in colours of obscurity
Today, you lie before
your grave
caricatured by flies and maggots
And a vulture who do not
know his age
nor neither ashamed of his bald head
I am not your father
my country
I can only weep for you
I am not your brother
my country
yet I have tried to bury your corpse
I am not your son
my country
I am your prisoner
Trapped in the
pit
of your hopelessness
Against my will
and that of
my kinsmen