So quiet are the voices ringing at the back of our throats
Coiling like forgotten ancestral prayers,
Like forgotten songs.
The sin of their fathers raises mountains under our hued skin,
a landscape of black mountains weeping.
The memory of the sun is in the food
What then when it was raised in laboratories by a cruel god in a white coat
Raising black sons to dry up the land then wait for the daughters to water raisins.
We are all left with a barren system and a spoilt harvest
The memory of the water is in our spine.
It cannot be held accountable for the thirst at the knees, and at the feet of lost boys and girls roaming the earth searching for their names.
Digging through ancient graves.
Scratching at the surface of their melanin.
Unrooting the seed of fear from their wombs,
Cutting the cord of sin from their testicles
This is a plea for our land
give us access to the trees are that are nourished by the navels of our forebearers .
From there we will dig and remember the remedy .
And then the umbilical cords will string together the songs and stories of our people,
Those who came and those yet to return.
Funwaini Inwi Sibanda is a Zimbabwean born multidisciplinary artist and multidimensional conduit using poetry, and visual arts to explore themes of African Identity and spirituality. Currently living in Johannesburg, South Africa Inwi has embarked on a creative journey doing collaborative projects with musicians to create a Poetry EP mused by Ether People doing the work of healing within the black community