It’s the Africa in me <br />that loves the forest in which I wake, <br />that sees and hears its fauna and flora and revels in their names. <br /> <br />It’s the Africa in me <br />that you hear in my spirited conversation, <br />that shakes my shoulders as I sob my sorrows <br />or laugh my insides, inside-out. <br /> <br />It’s the Africa in me <br />that keeps me reading poetry deep into the night <br />and causes me to stroke the sinuous muscles of my striped, domestic cat <br />and kiss the muzzle of my gently nickering horse. <br /> <br />It’s the Africa in me <br />that has taught me how to love <br />and patches up the fragments of my soul after each disaster <br />and renews my zeal and increases my understanding <br />in preparation for the next onslaught. <br /> <br />It’s the Africa in me <br />that has carried me <br />from my first baby breath <br />and will support me to my very last. <br /> <br />I am truly a child born of Africa. <br /> <br />(August 1999)<br /><br />Diana van den Berg<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-s-the-africa-in-me/
