Charcoal

photocredit- artnews africa

Drown me back in charcoal

For henceforth,

my body refuses to be counterfeit,

A judas to itself.

Remind me of who I am

and where I come from.

Start with my skin,

then to my  mind,

back to my skin again,

and then inside.

Heal my soul of inferiority,

for I have bleached my tongue,

so much it has forgotten the taste of my name,

It now sounds like periwinkle.

The savor is misplaced,

help me find it.

Waiter, a plate of fufu and egusi will do,

anymore pizzas will be the death of the African in me.

 Detatch me from my westerness,

take me back to the black plug.