Portion - universityofafricanart.org

On its way
Into the desert.
Who did not know
That the dry fig leaf
Once wore green chlorophyll
On its way to the river?
Why look at us
With queries and questions
Ask them who bind
Our destine with wires and tires
Ask those who look aside
Ask the lawyers
Who drew the papers
That made us the properties
Of those who hold the memoirs.
In a land where files
Are heavier than people
Who hold them to ransom
Who use them to hold others
In bondage without their consent
For no other reason
Than bullets and gags
Tied in proverbial shackles.
Tired with broken ankles
They filed us out
Into the canoes