You wore your identity as a
Coat one size too small–
Confining, irritating from the
Constricting fit of history.
Neither Africa nor Azania*
Could break your self-hate.
As if the ebony clay
You were molded in
Became a fruit too bitter
To be consumed.
*Azania = South Africa
Life Saving Station
Upon this shell-and-seaweed bulwark
I was an oasis reviving the wrecked sailor;
An ark holding victims of the deep
Before their final journey home.
Now I watch with boarded eyes
Waves advance and recede &
Tankers lumber across the horizon.
To restore life is my purpose, my faculty.
But in waiting, I neglect my own.