I was born in Africa
A day in April.
I’m not sure which day it was.
It could have been the 24th, or it might have been
I cannot say.
I grew up in Africa,
In a land of toil and strife
Against itself and the world,
Uncertainty running as deep
As the uncertainty of my birth.
I lived through history—
A history that denied my best friend and I
Shared coffee at a café,
My face was too pale, her skin too dark.
Our friendship was forbidden
Yet we were bound together.
Forced separation could never deny
A childhood friendship.
I was blessed by Africa—
The soul, the air, the electricity
Brought about by a summer
Thunderstorm, dark clouds hanging
Heavy, threatening destruction.
I voted in Africa
As the clock ticked over to Wednesday
27th of April 1994.
From out of the snaking queue,
A fusion of people and race,
The land once tied up in chains
Was brought to liberty.