The Bones of Patrice Lumumba

The Bones of Patrice Lumumba

The bones of Lumumba lay not dissolved in acid poured as doom at African unity,
They lay not in shallow graves dug by cowards mistakenly honoured to hold a dead matyr.
The bones of Lumumba lay not in remnants left in the trunk of colonial vipers and their puppet ghosts.
The bones of Patrice lay not rippled and disjointed by the shooting squad’s bullets,
His remains lay not aged by decades of lies, misinformation and stuck denial by afraid imperialists.
The bones of Lumumba did not disperse and vanguish like wished in the midst of white terror stamped in black.
The bones of Lumumba lay not in the darkness painted after the beacon of light was extinguished by a hail of bullets,
They lay not in the coffin of clandestine plots mooted to silence Africa’s philosophers, crude they maybe.
The bones of Patrice resurrect not because of blind hero worshipping and post independence glorification,
But find their voice amid a cacophony of lies that pose so nude against African oneness.
The bones of Lumumba are forever living in his words,
From fragments of his intelligent scull, to toes he walked with to school,
They scatter in words of defiance imperialists sought to dissolve,
And their timeless message ressurect every bone to its rightful anatomy,
to prove fearful are the imperialists to the truth,
That ‘we are nolonger your monkeys’,
And these bones say the same, yesterday, today and tomorrow…
Unfortunately or fortunately with sorrow.
Bones of Lumumba remain homeless, and restless,
So long as ‘independence’ seems a fallacy and a cage,
by which imperialism seeks to bury or dissolve, the bones of truth.
The bones of Patrice Lumumba.

Taurai Mutoti 29 December 2011. All Copyrights reserved

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