The Forest

By M. Nyakara

One by one,

they are felling the trees.

“These thick-headed black men.

Do they not understand photo-synthesis?”

One by one,

they are felling the trees.

Bellies are empty,

but the forest is full.

One by one,

they are felling the trees.

see black bodies

swinging in the breeze.

One by one,

they are felling the trees.

Wooden crosses,

to mark black men’s graves.

 

Lost and Found

the map across your face

guides me to the mountain where I buried you

the river where I drowned you.

 

Broken Things

as I lay there that night,

I could only think of how the sound

of rain pounding brick and iron

reminded me of your fists

 

Check out M Nyakara‘s blog.

For more poetry click here.

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Posts from the magical women and gender non conforming people around the African continent. To have your voice on the site email submissions@holaafrica.org with your submission, title of piece and name you want to be published under. For inquiries email info@holaafrica.org. All rights remain with original authors.
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