The bolded words are those we had to define and use within a narrative.
I emailed my teacher asking her if i could write a poem, rather than a narrative, and this is what came of it !
1914
The French colonial rule
We were birds
We flew and watched the Italian colonies in Africa
And that is what we did until we died
But before we died, we lived
All over the plains and cities
We watched it all
We followed that family of four
The decolonization of our souls became a trend
And soon enough
Our hearts became a single party state
No one else was permitted to create its beat
We were the only leaders
Our indirect rule was all we had left
Our decisions to fly
No one else
Posted on our branch
Over looking the Volta River
The dam taking over every rocky shallow surface
“Fly to the Gold Mines”
Thats what our neighbors told us
We refused
We wanted to see what everything would become
Francis Kwame Nkrumah built our home
He lead every bird around
Every bird beside us
The Convention People’s Party followed his lead, too
Independence is what they wanted
To watch is what we desired
So many leaders
And they all made a difference to every bird in their uneven flight
Antonio Agostinho Neto
Fredrick Gordon Guggisberg
Robert Gabriel Mugabe
Nana Ageyman Prempeh I
Political flags posted on metal poles
Dug into the soil and was put in the sky
Replacing us
Stares at ZANU, ZAPU, and UANC
No one looks at us anymore
Not even Kipling
He wont write about us
We’re just birds
We just flew
And watched
And that is what we did until we died
