MY PEOPLE by Hasheem Deza from Malawi

My people are black
Born of the darkest thicket of a night
Hard and cracked are their foot
Walks mileage, to and from, on foot
Carrying Magombo, to bring a coin
That sustain a life in the country side
Hid in poverty, the lob defining their wealth

My people are of the river side
Born domestic, raised wild
Growing at the epicenter of tides
Working for just another breath
Stepped no foot to play a book
Carried by tradition, bursting with morals
My people have a big hand
That holds no fingers

My people are my person’s people
My person completes my people’s cycle
Crawling forth, my people bridge
My person to the other side,
Persons ride on my people’s swim
Crocodiles in? are no less
Keep me a flame to have when the sun sets
My people, for me and in my people I rest