MY BROTHER DOESN'T KNOW ME

I am proud to be African,

I am proud to be black,

We are strong, We are no longer slaves,

We are no longer pitiful.

We are proud to be black!

We have been brothers since the beginning of time,

We have been cousins since the start of the 19th Century.

...So my brother no longer knows me.

It's not that he owes me,

It's just that he disowns me,

Through the lack of actions thereof that he shows me.

Our kind is rooted deep in history,

But he reacts ever so slowly to the problems that are before me.

Sorry, i know that you have enough trouble in your house,

The torture you have endured in your own house is appalling,

Truly, our kind have faced and continue to face the worst brutality.

That is why i was of the view that we stick together,

In order to solve the problems in both houses,

In order to curb the habit of being abused spouses.

The power that we would wield together would be immense,

The power of Wakanda would be intense....................

..........These dreams have stayed locked and decaying in the dream closet,

Our hope is quickly dwindling down the hopeless faucet.

I open up my eyes and you have been added as a slave master to the docket.

You had a picture of us but you forever hid it in your pocket...

That's what i mean to you,

A distant cousin in a distant memory.

When all the fingers point you join in with distinct allegory.... 

I am African, 

I am Black,

We are Black...

But we are not brothers.

A Poem by Bruno Edgard

Looking Into The Hague

LOOKING INTO THE HAGUE

I lift up my eyes and as clear as cool might breeze,

I see Angels surround me.

In the distance, i see bodies of dead acquaintances climbing.

They fly towards the Moon like its their salvation,

Beyond this fleshy world, there is a nation.

The unseen seen climb up and step into the moon's station.

The stars light up the path to the gateway,

There are two paths into which the souls can stray;

One of them is wide and open,

The other is narrow with rough edgy bends,

Death is in the air, death is the new trend.

The Moon keeps staring.

With it's light beaming,

It calls unto wandering souls,

Streaming....

Home is here.

And as sure as daylight is clear,

The graves open up and dark dots rise in the air...

The destination to this flesh is unclear.

But to those immortal mortals, 

It's as clear as grey hair...........

Do not take me there,

Not now......

I still have the Lord's work to complete.

My race is not yet finished,

My Father is surely still in it,

I still harbor strength in these dreary feet.

In return for keeping me awake from that dreaded flight,

I promise to live a life with purpose,

I solemnly swear that i will no longer wing it.

Every corner that is filthy in my mind,

I promise to clean it.

Let my life not stray into a path that will end it.

To the ones flying, I salute you.

To the faithful ones,

I know that where you are going is beautiful,

You have taught me to be careful,

To be careful with this oxygen that is plentiful.

We, the people of soil and bone celebrate the path that you herein walked.

We celebrate all the beautiful words that you spoke.

As you fly into the nimbus filled night,

Please know that we will forever be grateful,

That we shall forever honor you;

For your courage in 1942,

For all the wonderful meals that you cooked,

And for all the times into our eyes you looked.

We will always remember you!!!

.....They stand in a line close to the Moon,

And they look down at me, not with gloom,

But with a smile, a smile that eternally blooms.

They are leaving me now,

They disappear behind the clouds,

Hence their journey to the courts of Shalom begins.

And now..look at them ascend!!!

A Poem by Bruno Edgard.