Mother Africa

By no mistake or chance did heaven’s Host
Decide to plant me on this southern coast.

For you have fed me from you breast.
At night you laid my frame to rest.
My tutors were the emerald trees,
The rugged earth and starlit seas.
The thorny hills, the cedar’s bole,
Has forged the texture of my soul.
The winds who taught me tales at night,
Compelled my sapling soul to write.

But now the wind and earth and trees
Have said: “Repay the debt of love.”

Go meet
The poor with open hands;
And lift
Your pen to write of pride.
And trust
That we were planted here,
By God,
With purpose and design.