Son,
I never imagined anything I planted
On my way here would grow as tall as you did
Let glory return to God—
What is your poetry about,
I don’t think I understand most of it;
teach me language, son
So I may show you behind the curtains of my life.
You say you’ve let go of love recently
After your mother took you, I looked for God
for twenty years
Something in our blood is an ever-spinning compass
– I can’t tell you how many times
I returned to that moment, how many times
Losing you was a barrel held between my teeth
On your way to Lusaka, you tell me that even termites
Are building toward heaven
I want you to look for God the same way,
I want you to look for home the same way.
Loic Ekinga Kalonji (21st century) Democratic Republic of the Congo
Source: 20.35 Africa
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