It's storms and moved for Him these great, black wings

In search of land. In the vast freedom of Nothing

I beat.

 

Until my reality was abandoned.

 God’s faithful servant, Noah

And every one of God’s men cheered for

the fortuitous return

of you

 

with little olive twig

in mouth

 

On that day

the people forgot about the plight of living in the Dark

In Night’s Horizon I had already

Circled many times the globe

But didn’t see you there.

Till easily the spring was formed

With treasure on its fingers,

Lining up in groves

 

Before the dawning of day

Before God called

‘let there be light’

 Within that flight

God showed me a vision of

White.

Crack

Across the sea and the sky 

and scratch a seperation in lightening forks.

The first form.

and thunder shook the colour in you

Out.

For it had come to mean good and righteous to the people of that language

That you remain unmarked and 'perfect.'

And so the history of mankind

Was, then, written in black blood upon the lush green lands

tarring them barren

and the famines were kept

for the future of Afrika's children.

 

For I

 

The Black.

 

The Dubh of forgotten tongue

 

Was made outcast in every breeding nation.

And my black eyes saw that gong

of eclipsed sun

ring out synonymous with ‘wrong’.

 

So to the darker tribes

I told my misgivings.

And to the White

I cast my opposite in shadow

as they were not formed to hear my voice

and so its scrawks

here at the perimeter.

 

But still I faithful fly,

With only momentary still

And shed my feathers

For ‘man's’ invention of the quill

 

I shout it out to God,

In an inaudible glory

for picking this fight

without allowing 

my side of its story

and fitting me with heavy beak

and knife claw

but dignifying peace

to force from me a draw.