O Mother I see you dressed like your sisters in brief loin-cloth
Drawing telluric strength from the baptismal waters
I see you at the evening mass
I see you splendid breaking into the dance
With ceaselessly swaying hips
You are a blazing ripple at the foot of the houngan
and seemingly bonelessly supple beneath strong spices…
The African Book Review is posting a poem from each of Africa’s 55 countries over the next few weeks. Poem suggestions can be sent through the comments form below. ‘Like’ us on Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr to read all the poems.