MASTERPIECE

MASTERPIECE

I was carefully and thoughtfully

Knitted in my mother's womb.

My body was moulded and painted

With the intention and purpose

Of thriving, of not living in doom.

He who created me knew

That my eyes were meant to be dark brown

And not light blue or light green;

That my nasal canal was meant to be free,

With air passing in and out of it freely

And thus without any space for flu.

It must be true

That there was a script that was written for me,

A script that was dedicated to my story.

This script was written before the beginning of time.

The words on that script dictated

That I would not have a receding hairline;

That my hands needed to be of a specific size

So that they would be inclined

To hold a microphone

And speak the words that were written on the script

Refined and sublime.

Aye, my lips were created to chime.

My teeth were made so evenly spaced

Without any big gaps

So that in conjunction with my plush tongue

My words could easily rhyme.

My eyes were fashioned with pupils so deep

So that they could search the soul

Of my future wife.

My colour was unmistakably chosen

From the Creator's great colour chart 

Not so that I could dwell in poverty,

Not so that I could be discriminated against,

Not so that I could be called a nigger

Not so that I could be ostracized,

No!!!

I was given the colour of a black berry

So that I could be the sweetest fruit,

So that I could reign with vigour 

In the land of the youth,

So that I could stroll though Kampala's streets

Flaunting the prowess of my melanin.

I was created with the colour of a King.

Never did the Creator's script

Have a scene about me being a son of a dark nation

Or an heir in a "dark continent".

He did not stitch patriotism into my heart

With the "great"  idea that I would survive in a developing nation

Or that I would dwell in a corrupt nation.

I was not created to lack originality.

My brain was not sculpted to be subject to only uncle Sam's innovation.

No! I was created to thrive in a continent with riches.

Right into the centre of my heart He stitched 

The wisdom and knowledge of the great Kings of Ankole.

Right into my heart,

He plastered the innovation of the Ashanti.

Right into my heart,

He moulded the aorta of the Zulu

That pumps courage into the rest of my body.

When the great Creator painted my heart red,
As the bright colour of love,
Never did He envisage divorce for me in His plan.
In the script that he wrote about me,
There was no act and no scene in which
My future wife signed a prenup.
Instead, His plan for me
Was for my love for her to last
Until the very end of time,
Was for us to grow old together
And hold each other forever
Like how nine holds nine in the number ninety nine.
When He was moulding my eyes,
He knew that I would need them
To look at her beauty so fine.
Aye, to behold such beauty divine,
One needs the right set of eyes.

I was wonderfully and gloriously 
Created for good works.
I was not created to break hearts 
Or to tear other peoples' worlds apart.
I was not created to have sick cells.
I was not created to cry in pain because of malaria, HIV, cancer, diabetes or sickle cells.

He created me knowing that the power of healing was stored in my heart.
I am not a product that was created defective with a crack.
I was set apart
As a beautiful creation of art;
As a masterpiece, a perfect piece of artistry. 

A Poem by Bruno Edgard.