Shehu Abubakar Niasse

Black Or White

my arms cuddle the image of a black boy a
accepting his end, dying &
un-protesting
the stiffness & shortness of his breath
is a wall for my hand to paste on
& tell the pains in his blood
trapping his visions
screaming into his head. you
could hear their voices
like of a dead unbeliever in his/her grave in the pains
from the torture of Munkar & Nakir,
he blows his breath to you like dust it discomforts & you allergic.
breaths are like a fragrance and an acrid smell
a pass to a party on here for the gates are coloured
if you walk into the gates with your body
& your passage be for whether your breath reeks smells or scents.
black or white.
we tell the colour of your body
with a clasp of your breath
blow your breath, tell how it smells & how squeeze do our noses

yet the sky teaches you to assume colourless your body
man is water, water is faceless, you cannot colour name it
man is water, man is colourless
save if emotions have colours. grieves
have faces— horrifying. dreams & hopes hold brightness— colour-blinding
a black boy is never a buoy drowning,
black is a light not a candlestick,
melting for a cause unjustified,
forced to burn till daybreak,
under the swivel of white darkness. there is oneness in air &
water does not denounce a dipping foot
unless its emotions are black
your heart, how oft you smile, tells the colour your body breathes.