Monthly Archives: October 2015

I am an African child.

‎Sometimes I feel like I am in over my head.
That I take on too much.
Then I remember;
I am young and in waiting,
that I am intelligent and a work in progress,
that I am gorgeous and creating a new me.
I find myself questioning my actions for taking on more than I can chew,
that I jump into the deep end with all the joy in the world.
I am not the most wise, nor the cutest,
but I remember that I’m a survivor.
I remember that I never give up.
I remember that what I couldn’t do, now I can.

I remember that the little I’ve achieved, increases day by day.
That I can grow weary and tired,
broke and lost, but I remember who I am.
I remember the strength I have;
the audacity to dare and the might to cry,
the love for life to continue and the pains I’ve managed to survive.
I am not special or extraordinary,
I am not privileged or specially empowered.
I am an African child.

Destined and ready to conquer.
I am an African child.
Do not weep or gasp at where I’m from,
do not pity or shun my reality,
I am proud and kind, understanding and giving,
I am a story amongst many, gifted and willed.
Of the terrains that have defined spectacular,
of the rivers that quenched thirsts,
Of the sun that bakes the wilderness, of the lion that roars against fear,
Of the ubuntu I act on, of the culture I’m born of,
Of the perseverance of generations and the prospects of emerging economies.
One with the springs that nurture the greens,
One with the consciousness of greatness in the world.
I am an African child.