My Africa

A Poem by Nykie R

Society tells us Africa is poor, staving, war riden and dry. Though, to us Africans Africa is Beautiful and our mother.

The smell of a distant Arabia.
The taste of spices never seen but all mixed.
The sound of her heart,
Each beat from the souls of her sons.
Yellow. Red. Blue. Violet.
Her colours are vibrant,
Like those of the dancing peacock with each step,
Left and right, elegance and grace.
Her children all sun kissed.
From creamy caramel to some as dark as roasted arabica beans.
She whispers in the winds coming from the east,
Of stories of her land and her beasts.
Her beauty to see, to hear and feel.
Only with that do you experience something so surreal.
Dawn with its sunrise and dusk with its sunset.
You may find yourself lost,
Though even a dance, a song, beat, will bring you back into her arms even when you are warn.
Forget? Desert? Disregard?
No. Not her.
Deep within you being she says to you.
'I am in your heart child of mine.'
And with that you will never forget that line.