The Bent Backs of our Fathers

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.