Africa

Came home from watching The Constant Gardener and wrote this poem.

My veins are bleeding you
as always they have done.
Always walked half dead
as if dragging chains on my feet,
on my hands,
on my neck.
Africa…disposable land
Africa…disposable me
My eyes are crying you.
The tears only your soul see.
When haven’t you seen them?
Don’t know if your soul is dragging my chains
or my chains, your soul.