Echoes beneath the dust

Same level feels sweet and unimaginable, With all my people depending on my broken back. Masters rule their servants just to conquer me, But I only hear one word: “Our land is poor.” I heard other cocks crowing to the people They carry, Telling them to dig my spine because I am rich from the inside. My people shout and brag about the weather And the riches I possess, But they are all blinded by the beauty of other cocks. None of them wants to use my wealth But exchange it with a handshake and just a stick Of cigarette, Followed by a disguised smile wrapped in jealousy From the foreigner’s face. I left my level and climbed the mountain Back to the foot. I placed the mirror to look at my own self, And I saw a black, shiny reflection. Maybe this is why I am Africa, Or it’s the reason Why my people admire other cocks so much— Which explains why I am being sold away. Every people must love and protect Their own cock, But my people’s love and protection come When I am being beaten and outsmarted by other cocks. They don’t value my tears that run from Lake Victoria to the foreign land of the Mediterranean Sea. I cry for the life of my people. © Oulawilly