“It takes a village
to raise a child,”
and Uncle said no child
is left behind,
but Uncle doesn’t speak Kiswahili,
so maybe
he didn’t leave a village behind
for the children.
Les bobos, boujee kids
of the bourgeoisie
play Jacques A Dit,
but Jacques told me
to follow the beat
of La Coumbite,
to
let the song
of the rake
and the hands
of the throng
break the soil
of
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deeds
seeds
from
which
freedom
buds.
I loved this neat evolution, and the optimism in it. There is such contrast here between the beauty of the ideal (and what we've realized of it) vs. how we have failed it and have let ourselves backslide in just a few short years.
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