by Tom Mukasa
The poets then,
and so too now,
were bound by code,
to tell,
tales,
of the earth,
to say it and make it seen,
a mandate,
to heal a sore,
or bruise,
in all its form,
emotional,
physical,
mental,
trader-poets,
conqueror-poets,
warrior-poets,
collector-poets,
healer-poets,
mediator-poets,
builder-poets,
hunter-poets,
pacifier-poets,
not because they were women,
or men,
or bent,
or reed backed,
or stentorian,
or mild speaking,
just poets,
revered,
repository of wisdom,
citizens knowing all climes,
but,
no country or county,
or sex,
or race,
or culture,
owned them,
their audiences,
their responsibility,
unapologetic,
neutral,
counted upon,
like the season,
only taking their fair share,
and giving the form of wisdom,
poem-stories.
- Share this Poem:
ABOUT THE POET ~
Tom Mukasa is a recipient of the Anne Frank Human Rights Award. He lives in San Francisco, California USA, enjoys country-walks, volunteers with social development organizations. He has a passion for working in the laboratory and with teams working towards the cure of HIV. He is the co-founder of the Global Social Justice Action Against Xenophobia (JAXp). He is a blogger but also finds time to write poem-stories using the traditional Buganda style rendered in English. Many more of his poems are on: ugandabeinsanfrancisco.blogspot.com. Enjoy reading them but do not forget to share a remark as well as following him. Thank you, you are lovely!
Last updated July 14, 2015