Ujamaa Christian Poetry

Talk To Me

Your majesty,
When I consider the endless battle
Of my people for a fair share
Of this star of startling beauty,
I wonder,
What were you thinking
When you made us?

A thousand years
To come, in your all-seeing eyes
Have already been seen.
You are the author of our fate.

You knew their ships would come,
That their fishers of men - our brothers
      …Most likely already burning in hell
      If you are as fair as I believe…
Would improve on Cain's invention
Of murder, sweep through the hills of Africa,
Our forests, the sandy paths to streams
Where shoeless feet of young maidens chattered
Scented with songs of insects, like hurricane,
Taking away miracles made - seeds of our mothers
And flows of our fathers, bound like animals,
To lose their names, donkey and die
In fields far away.

                  You allowed this.
                  I understand why you allowed
                  The murder of your only son,
                  But I don't understand this.
                  Please educate me.

Father of great majesty,
You work in mysterious ways.
I know you had a reason
For letting this evil happen to us.

           Oh, for Christ's sake Karl Marx shut up.
           This is not what you think. It is not…

Father of great majesty,
Was there something we had to learn?
Did we learn it?

If only you would speak to me
Like you did Samuel, call me, I am here,
Help me, take away my unending guesswork
About your intentions. I want to be like your son
Who was murdered for my sake.
I am here, your majesty, talk to me.

Written by Nnorom Azuonye


Ujamaa Christian Poetry