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Submitted by Tman47 on May 18, 2008
Category: English
Words: 310 | Pages: 2
Views: 64
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Am I African?
I learnt about obedience from Hansel & Gretel,
Because I followed them into the woods,
I know danger because I know Pinocchio,
And so I do what ‘real boys’ should.
I know pies are delicious and spiders are scary,
Tom Thumb and Miss Muffet,
Enid and Roald, my friendships are yours,
My adventures begin where your paper meets pen.
Literary beauty is limerick, a sonnet,
A stanza or a verse, what is it called in Zulu again?
I cannot remember, maybe I did not ever know.
I am Irish, poetry is war, war against war,
Rebellion against the order, yet I have not held a gun . . .
I am English, my sympathy is Oliver Twist,
My hero is William Tell,
Austen taught me manners,
Shakespeare - how to spell.
I am Spanish, I am German, I am even French too,
I ride shotgun with Quixote and while he steers, I read Mann and Camus,
But I doubt we will ride through the Dark Continent,
Because even they do not know a way through.
My wisdom is Greek,
God is Roman . . . Jesus, from the east?
And even to fashion a rebellion against this apparent façade,
There’s a country next door, I’ll just visit Nietzsche.
Even Tolkien’s fairies lived in a land where he did not sit,
Did he not think Africa was land enough,
For drama, adventure, or tragedy to be writ?
But wait, there was Bosman and Schreiner
And that man on the horse in the boer war,
There was Dingaan and Shaka, I remember them now!
Am I brave because of them, am I a spirited fighter like their impi’s were?
Maybe I am that, but maybe I am also cautious,
Because even their final chapter was not etched in African sand,
It was written by a musket, held by an Imperial hand.
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