Missing Person

God left Africa on a slave ship years ago
And He hasn’t come back since

He left behind vast green pastures
His orchards and pineapple fields
Little Hannibal was but a suckling baby
And Nefertiti was yet to be queen

Did he survive the middle passage;
Shackled and starved, the whipping,
Or did he arrive covered in sores?
I hope they respected who he was
That he wasn’t sold for a few pennies
Stripped of his dignity on the auction block
Examining his teeth like a pedigree horse
While well-bred ladies blushed at his majesty

And which Massa found him worth the price
And carted him away to his plantation
To work the fields for Massa’s economy
And sire his Massa’s dwindling colony
How many of his children did he see grow?
How many were sold off before his eyes?
Did he live a fulfilled peaceful life;
Or did he die at the ripe age of twenty-one?

If only they knew who he was
And let him be, to graze his cattle in the savannah
And cultivate his cassava and cocoyam fields
And watch little Hannibal become a warrior
And live out the fullness of his life
In the bosom of Nefertiti
If only they knew who he was
And let him be to farm his land.

God left Africa many years ago
And we have not seen him since

© Tyrone Terrence