Woman From Congo

I am woman … WOMAN Of Congo, Chewed, Spat out, And bestowed with straw basket To fetch water. You set upon us Wild dogs, Stretching our legs wide, Ripping out our genitals and dignity To nurse your children’s Craving. ‘fore you design gods; Ones who create dolts, Small-minded folks, And feast on minerals – Congo was a lady And I … I am WOMAN, Strong black woman. I bought some views On black market; They are rare commodities, Sat down with glass of nsamba on the rocks And seriously contemplate … It is hard to buy Black market stuff; We are set up To think East is inferior to west, Barring them Europeans Who broke their necks To dwell in Canaan. One thing is for sure, They alleged a better name And substitute The ones we were given; Those with implications. Oh, what things we see When we start looking From our own eyes. I am WOMAN … Woman alone And taken against my desire, Ravished by the corporations; The gods who create your children I am WOMAN, Woman from Congo.