The Hands of Time Across the Sparse Savannah

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem I wrote August 7th, 2012 because I was sick of people thinking that Africa was a barren wasteland that hasn't advanced in decades.

Just remember, The Republic of Congo is said to be the heart of Africa.

Submitted: March 16, 2013

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Submitted: March 16, 2013



People are under the misinformed assumption
that Father Time abandoned Mother Africa years ago
leaving her paralyzed with grief
and her life at a standstill

Truth is
their affair is kept quiet enough that no one
seems to notice that each night
he slips beneath her sheets of dry sand
before scaling her glacial mountains 
and allowing her to run his hands
down the River Nile
into a rainforest labyrinth 

And yet these secretive visits do not go unseen
by the ever-wandering eyes
of Mother Nature whose green patches
often overshadow her calm blue waters

Perhaps that can help explain
why the deserts are leaving 
less and less water for the Procreators
and why the darkened trees 
laced with moss and vine 
now shriek as their tears hit the many 
who lie in open graves becoming shells
of who they once were

No wonder Father Time is able to wrap himself so closely to Congo
without anyone noticing their ongoing romance
but it seems that the closer he stays to her
the faster her bones disintegrate into the very dust which covers her

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