What Has Been Will Be
The explosion at Babel echoes
Though our DNA has intermingled
Over chiliads of diaspora, slavery,
And war so mythical it’s romantic.
Be assured: all “pure blood”
Is tainted with a savage history and we
Will always regroup.
To exist among my people
Is like icy, strawberry, saccharine juice
Dripping down my throat in the African
Heat that boils my sweat.
To those with no roots: you’re uprooted.
In this melting pot we’re swirling
Into an alloy, yet chemical traits
Remain that link us to our quarries.
Away from home, I travel on white tundra.
Wind whistles through my dimple to chill my jaw,
And, mystic, whispers in my ear:
Man will soon meet a monochromatic nexus.
We’ll mix in the soil and seas and breeze:
The alabaster fornacatrix in Milan with the
Toothless white-haired Masai in Kenya.