Frantz Fanon (From Pages)

Martinique is in our history too Not just in our blood Because Josephine seduced him To make us reap more bitterness From the ferment of the sugarcane Martinique was also his home His native shore Long before Paris It was his Algerian door But why should I tell you this For it is chronicled In us who wear A black mask Over a white skin that do not appear In the mirror of your soul He could see beyond The root of our insanity Even when we were invisible Not just to the whip cracker Boot licker Heartbreaker Drum maker Truce taker This was our genius Our noble gift to the barren world Where shall I start over My history, my image I defended so long until I was washed in the night And my bright brother does not see the carnage Except Fanon tell them again That in this polarized man Are poles more wretched And we wretched of the earth Can hope now For what? Steve Biko knew what direction the sun Come crawling on the sky like a maggot Biting in the apple of the eye. There is so much frenzy in a storm Death brings peace The only peace we get for free The one we never desire Sometimes I wish I knew How to turn the sun into fire And cleanse the earth of me As an image in another mind But where would I get Another mind to know The litany of our regret. We all have a Morocco dilemma We are wounded there deeply Like he was What world is this they founded for us This third marginalized This obfuscation of reality How shall we find in this Another identity for a new begining What woman is there That will cease dancing with her shadow And love me for the hope I am For the absolutely beautiful reason That I dream of death Impaled like a fish Gasping on the sand of his flesh