AFRICA by Alex Stone Snr

It's a pity by true, that Africa
refuses adamantly to be loved.
We who would have her for a mother
must crawl about unfulfilled like fleas on a bloodless dog.

We have come to expect, foolishly,
that a land needs to be loved,
perhaps naturally, because our love
floats about on a reaching arm
like a hat looking for a peg to hang on
in a parlour that has never known hats.

If you must be happy in Africa
throw your heart's hat on the floor
and never look back to see the ants
quietly make dust of it
to nourish the quiet African grass.