I Am An African

    Africa Calls to Me (version 1)

    2007

    Africa calls to me
    With the beat of her drums that mark my days
    And the words of her poets that guide my ways
    With the crash of the waves that hug her shores
    And the sounds of the rain that soak her pores
    Africa calls to me
    With the tears of mothers that stain her soil
    And the laughter of children that ease her toil
    With the rattle of guns that pierce her calm
    And the bustle of streets that sing her psalm
    Africa calls to me

    The sounds of Africa
    Are the cries of the world’s forgotten child
    Taking us back into the womb of creation
    The sounds of Africa
    Are the songs of the world’s untamed wild
    Filling our ears with hymns of oblation
    The sounds of Africa
    Are the screams of the world’s disturbing fears
    Begging us to embrace transformation
    The sounds of Africa
    Are the words of the world’s neglected seers
    Pointing us to the star of salvation

    Africa speaks to me
    Through the babble of markets on the breeze
    And the lament of hawkers so forlorn
    Through the heaving of fishers on the seas
    And the hooting of taxis at dusk and dawn
    Africa speaks to me
    Through the roar of lions basking at noon
    And the snigger of hyenas in the night
    Through the rumble of elephants in tune
    And the stir of gorillas out of sight
    Africa speaks to me

    The sounds of Africa
    Are the lashing of slaves that haunt her past
    And the victory songs of those who are free
    The sounds of Africa
    Are the crumbling of ways that cannot last
    And the hopes for new possibilities
    The sounds of Africa
    Are the whispers in a din of despair
    And the tunes in a maze of lost and found
    The sounds of Africa
    Are the notes in the symphony we share
    And the joy in a land of light and sound

    Africa calls to me
    With the cry of eagles that frees my soul
    And the hush of sand dunes that soothes my mind
    With the call of loeries that makes me whole
    And the cicadas’ drone that blots out time
    Africa calls to me
    With the crackle of fires that light her skies
    And the rustle of leaves that swish her sighs
    With the chant of her songs that move my feet
    And the pulse of her heart that makes mine beat
    Africa calls to me

    — Wayne Visser