By divine orchestration; the Super-being placed their feet upon the Soils of the Negroid Savannah
The land of the Rising Sun
Black tough skin perfectly made to confront the harsh sunbeam
Some brown, some deep;
Shinning by the slightest soft cleansing and tendering
Later this community of men encountered a group with the white skin
By virtue of fate; a lot of things changed
Black men became caged;
Not only physically but mentally
The craving for a mirror and a couple of jeans;
Made men lose the sense of their originality
To be modern; they say be white, to be the best; be light
Perception told and bought without confirmation
Without balancing on the mat for a second thought
Without consideration that we had a place we were coming from
We the children of valour, of the land of the rising sun
For the cooked and garnished Europeanism
Our folks embark upon the journey across the Mediterranean Sea
A deadly voyage; the journey to see lands of Aesthetic magic
Many, unfortunately; caught in between, drowned by the blue sea
Denied from seeing the dreamland of their fantasies
Peel it off if possible; black; they say; is a sign of bad luck
But how bad is this luck that has been gifted to us; we the sons of the Nubian land
Where rain and sunshine emerges at their set time
Our wildlife; one of a kind
Our Great falls: unique; ask Zimbabwe; of Victoria
How bad is the Luck that has made us enviable edifice?
Only your identity has no counterfeit
You must not forfeit this in pursuit of becoming another person
Or else; you learn a dire lesson;
It could be so bad
We are African for a reason;
It’s Divine
Bolaji Olaniba ((2018)
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