as she breathes...

The Stars gathered

To craft a portrait 

Of the African Child's Nose

Her Nose, smells trouble up North

And vacuums the fires that be in the South

Her Nose, speaks a smile at sunset in the East

And bows to no souls in the West

Two rivers, one beside the other

bordered by a talking drum

Sharp as a giraffe's gaze

as sons "dobale” in obeisance

Oh Woman, thou African Child

Thy Nose spews pleasant aroma

stealing souls of passers by

Like a hurricane

Thy Nose, majestic as the ocean

An oracle without sound;

borne in deep truths of our ancestral strength

Against the foes of nature.

But God! Doesn't she wear the World well!