Your voice at times a fist
       Tight in your throat
Jabs ceaselessly at phantoms 
       In the room,
Your hand a carved and
       Skimming boat
Goes down the Nile
       To point out Pharoah's tomb.

You're Africa to me
       At brightest dawn.
The Congo's green and
       Copper's brackish hue,
A continent to build
       With Black Man's brawn.
I sit at home and see it all
       Through you.


 = Eye'z