He collects my beliefs into the crest of his palms
And pulls them into his chest,
He sees me as one close enough to him
So I help put his spirits to rest.
But Blessed
Is He, who can understand the royalty of Afrikan subjects,
Who all have been cursed at the hands of a world
Which prefers to see us as objects
Of a prolonged exploitation.
But just as these heavenly bodies
Move correspondingly in rotation,
And even with his eyes open
He dreams of revolution,
I dream it also…
And pulls them into his chest,
He sees me as one close enough to him
So I help put his spirits to rest.
But Blessed
Is He, who can understand the royalty of Afrikan subjects,
Who all have been cursed at the hands of a world
Which prefers to see us as objects
Of a prolonged exploitation.
But just as these heavenly bodies
Move correspondingly in rotation,
And even with his eyes open
He dreams of revolution,
I dream it also…
Uhuru Daima.
-Arielle M. John. copyright 2007
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