AFRICANS; TRIUMPH IN SIGHT FOR VIRTUES CONCEALED

 The mother land that instills in us spirited culture
With varying smash of tones
Rises in us concealed beauty from a toiling legacy
Deprived and battered doesn’t begin to describe us
From the rising of the sun to its setting 
Ceaseless attempts at survival has become our only mindset 
Striving to break from the holds of what we only know
In ruins and slums innocent lives spawned are bred to survive
Life gets devoid of definition and purpose 
It only rings in us the call for a war we have to fight
A burden we have to bear until the inevitable claws of death grips us
To our birthrights we are bastards 
Ones spawned for no inheritance of the treasures carried and spewed from the womb of our soil
Yet our rage is neither justified nor considered worthy of us
We are rejected by our blood 
Cast out by our counterparts 
In massive struggle to be accepted we adopted a culture
That speaks of a different heritage to what we know of
Yet we are never worth the trial 
Falling before we fall in our steps and when we dare to roar
We become cymbals with unethical sounds
Across the oceans and amidst the white waters 
We yearn for a reputation 
In our agony and frustration we seek to be heard in anyway at all cost
Have you ever been deprived of the life you cling on to out of pride?
Then do not tell an African man of what valor is
Have you ever watch the very thing you boast of patronized
Then do not explain to the mind of an African child patience
Yes the deeds of times should pay off
Nay? Isn’t that the principle of nature essence?
Why then do we toil on like the doom accursed us is of our negligence
Painted and masked a dumping ground
When beneath our land are treasures taken from beneath our foot 
To render us debris and nuisance to our place of thriving
Why are we termed reckless and helpless all because we seek a better life
Nay, a rightful life
Have you tread the cities of Africa
Behold the creativeness of our minds
The raw glory in the works of our hands
The beauty in the nature of our vast expanse
The glitters from the treasures exhumed out of our crust
Of course you have
Of all this we strive to give a voice
To be heard above the rumbles and whispers of the infliction we face
Vengeance? Our might wouldn’t even give to us the freedom to think out one
But then who do we plot against?
Our leaders who happen to be our brothers? 
Or our contemporaries who always happen to be miles ahead of us?
Since we are too desperate looking for a ray of light in this doom that has befallen us
Overly concerned with thinking through, a way out
The pain of being an African tiring,
ceaselessly have us spinning the wheels in our head
providing an unaccountable speed to our heels as we run so hard 
In the vain race to overcome this continuous ominous trod
Familiar with the struggle for survival 
With the poundings of our heart pumping our African blood
We will rise 
Despite the odds against us 
Even when we are made hounds and preys 
We won't rid ourselves of the true virtue in our root
We will rise
We might be concealed at the moment
Our dark beauty will glow admits the storms
And we will rise
When we rise the echoes of our sonorous voices will be heard repeatedly
Rising in its own beautiful way 
To give wings to the curbed too long eagles the race is become
In a valiant press on, as gallant warriors caught in treachery 
We will fight on to victory
Until then will our triumph make us formidable
Ceasing the claws of treachery upon us
In expounded clarity I sing of this vile act
That's bring unrest and unattainable victory to the blood and sweat lying beneath our stones
We will rise in a glory formidable.

 About Writer:
Zoet is a runner. He gives voice to stillness and liberty to moments in words. He calls them his streams of consciousness, painting words with perceptions.


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