love is the dark beating drum
heart of the forest
moon smoothed by a million palms
taut as tensed bellies
waiting for night
and the sword thrusts.
Hate is the sharp shearing knife
slitting the white woman’s womb
skewering her unborn child
on a meat spit
held by a laughing man.
Time is the naked Dinka
one legged on the river bank
spear in hand drowsily watching
slow steamers eddy by.
Youth is the engineer
rudely awakened from the ancient
drum born dream
Power is black
in the arms of new politicians
chess playing in jet planes
noiselessly to London
cool over the heat bent yellowing land.
the fossils are not dead but waiting.
Where languages flow like blood
no codes carry their cryptic information.
Uncongealed in alphabet
The words fly free
Seeking their own and powerful sense.