The Bent Backs of our Fathers

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Proud warriors in ancestral savannahs...is this your back that is bent.
 ~David Diop


Sweat shed on ancestral savannahs
 Blood from our grandfathers' labours
The bent backs of our fathers
The pains of the proud warriors
 And the songs of our grandmothers
 Have all gone to ciphers
 We are history’s refrain, a tragic chorus of cycles
This is not a disease, yet
 Our backs are bent like those before us
 This time from the toils we choose
 Our ancestral warriors in awe
 Watch us writhe in new pains
 Only this time not on the plains
 But in the cold gloomy northern winters
 Where we forget the songs of our grandmothers 
 Who will save us now that we have gone too far
 Beyond the reach of our mother's voice and
The long warm fingers of the sun.


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