I am the son of scholars
Soldiers, warriors, dancers
Politicians, Farmers
Herders, poets
Athletes, survivors…

I saw my father’s destiny
rise,
Despite all who opposed
Who wait
With teeth gnashing and weapons ready
For his downfall
And through which in strength and integrity
will never come.

I have listened to my mother’s voice
Painting a picture through brown eyes
Of her childhood
About her family’s noble lineage and dignity
And the horror that changed it all
Through murder and destruction
Men prayed for death, not gods

My parents were pioneers
Rising above hate
The pride of Africa in their skin
As they led the way
In that I was conceived in
Third born of a new ara.

Blood of Africa
Born of the Western world
Raised with new ideas
While holding tradiition
The son who will
Blaze through a new world
While keeping in his heart an old one.