Roots

Roots Who are we? Is the quest in nous? That rings each mos. as I think Of roots and the traditional trail Till a muffled loud voice echoed Impetus child “We are Africans” The true reflection of Ubuntu… The Bantu from the western margin San of Kalahari, Koi koi of Kuvhuki Whom travelled on bare feet and Endured the dry, thorny paths… With the sun overhead, red hot and Its rays amplified resulted in the toil The toil of the quest, the quest of Self-discovery in the Saharan region An arid, blister to hast endured. And the quest still melds in nous Who are we? My intimate’s pike Traditional ethos I question awry And a muffled loud voice echoed Impetus child “We are Africans” At a verge of impedance for we Have lost the traditional trailer Ethics strained, Morality sent to The guillotine, customs now ills, It is indeed the scratch of the triadic Generation, we hast wandered away from The roots, sexuality and taboos our toys Dignity impedes as we stride one leap Forward and twice the step backwards In defilement of Ubuntu, culture diluted By these delusions of grandeur, lost in This so called globalisation…