Black curtains

Photo: Ella Baxter

These are the chains of Africa;

Once, a father rejected the female of his fertility.

"Bear me a warrior, the valiant and master of the jungle."

I heard his voice, so did eternity.

It was the rumbling of colliding hearts,

The hissing of the burning Sahara sands,

The rattling of heavy beads on the waist of the jeered.

"She is only a baby basket and a cooking pot."

He refused to listen.

The owl cries at night, he sings a true song:

"A woman can climb the palm tree as the lion can."

Here, in this desert growing trees and shrubs,

There's an Angel from the west, the east and the north,

He shares bitter candies in hubs.

He is sweet-mouthed,

Deception dances on the tip of his tongue.

He shows you ice with fire on the other side that you can not see

Like beds of roses hiding thorns.

When you lie, you will be pricked!

You are merely deceived by sweet scents and bright colours.

It is true.

The Angel is the Angel-

For him, we have carved out moulds of black, clay demons;

To conquer and enslave.

 Here, I see a throne with its fittings over the dark continent,

Like a wide cloud of adorned wood.

The king on it wears a garment made from all the clothes of the poor.

He is incompetent.

He heeds to foolish words,

Loots and coverts the heavy breastings of this black woman who we live in.

He is happy to let you die.

Yet! You keep him there to be your vine.

To you, people.

I am not a messenger,

I am only a teenage peeper from the black curtains.

I have seen the light of the other side and, I know why-

We rape our sons and our daughters,

We leave our fruits and harvest from others,

We are courtesans of injustice on altars.

We pray every day for a change,

Our religions cannot cause them.

Whether turbaned, Hijabed, Headtied or shaved and chalked,

We reap what we sow-

Karma, has so talked.

I know why Africa cannot cross the line now,

Why it cannot walk; it cannot see!

About the author

U.A Edwardson is a student of the University of Nigeria. His poems have appeared in Ngiga review and elsewhere. When he is not writing, you can find him swimming in an ocean of hobbies.