Truth
I met the truth,
I wasn’t naked,
The truth is hidden in our past,
African soil is the truth,
That which is naked,
When was introduced to Africans it left them wanting,
Always running and searching for its nakedness,
Only to cry and regret,
Now I wonder, what is it with the truths nakedness?
Or does truth pain?
The truth is hidden
Down the pigment,
Down the path of religion,
Down the scripture, the truth is hidden.
In garments of religion hidden,
Hidden in garments of confusion,