Could've
- Kinsman Quarterly

- 1 day ago
- 2 min read
By Akin Jeje

If we could’ve improved the past,
Robert Nesta Marley would still be singing
songs of freedom, an’
Zimbabwe would truly be free.
If we had disproved the past,
Gangs and drugs would have
zipped by, Fast,
All our youth gassed on graduate degrees.
We have not completely failed the
aspirations Of our parents, many
now deceased,
With professions, families and
properties, Yet beyond is the
Promised Land,
As we wander through
Nomadlands, Nomanslands,
Decades past our King’s prophetic decree.
We strive to be,
But what are we, but awash
In the acrid bitterness of
history? Our Passover
Is adorned by the bricks and
mortar We built for others.
Astringent herbs We savor,
milling miles through deserts
Falling prodigal to golden idols.
Will fatted calves still
await Our arrival?
I plead guilty to charges criminal
and uncivil That I have underserved
the people.
My selfishness and short
sight Has wreaked an
existential blight.
We were a generation borne into
frustration. Too many expired long
before retirement.
Even away from strife of the streets, we were rafters,
Rife with disease, fruits of overwork, leisure
without relief, Lesser idols than Whitney,
Prince and Michael
Fervent figures skating over a
bottomless grief. Turned back on
the TV,
Innocent lad, black, wrong
address, Blasted twice, bitter
relic, white,
In Kansas City, Missouri.
Further north,
Chi-Town last week,
Thousands of the
youth dem,
Burned, bashed, twerked, blazed
and blazed Most everything,
In desperate pursuit of release.
It could’ve been better,
It could’ve always been
more, Than this.
What is it
now, What
is it here,
That
We actually achieved?





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