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Grizzly drizzles dribble down deep unfathomable depths.
Cesspit of stolen
                             heroisms greet
                             the stranger’s nostrils with that familiar
                                                                                                      stench, goading the unwary soles to the vortex on the familial.
“Avoidable casualties in Africa on my mind”, he spurted out.
What kind of sin could these have committed against God;
that life of black peoples, everywhere
first, among the outsiders, and now, even among them black people, including the black Africans, does not carry the weight of humanity?
Other people? Or, oh order people
                                                                –loss of traction deafens the soul.
On concourse to insanity.
Well, now this burden, it’s a sad burdensome reality
to think that you are black and your country is going up in flames, yet…
the world, looking on, smiles
                                                     with well-wrapped litup cigars, whose smokes nonchalantly cascade
through the evenings of the African child’s fated tears.
David Olali
Lawrenceville, GA, February 2016 
Article Categories:
Memory · Poetry · Scriptures · US & World
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