Now is the hijabee texting in a seat next to you sipping a skinny latte with slender ankles crossed
Now drives a tinted Mercedes almost running down a street rat who’s hooked on glue and pot
Now picks you up in his racksha while he holds a magistrate in business
Now serves you shai even better than your moms though she can barely feed herself let alone her children
Now wears what once was a jalabeya standing in a street corner, head down and a fist held out instead of an open palm
Now is barely eighteen donning the green barrette with a worn out safinja, popping his gun instead of gum
Now seeks a better life from Ethiopia only to enter a new war of intolerance because everyone assumes its diseased and promiscuous
Now tries to voice discontent only to get beaten and laughed at by its own countrymen
Now is in our tv sets as we lounge in our own laziness spitting away at tasaly, cheering on while ignoring our very own stench of indifference
let it feed us
feed you
wet your appetites to the sweet sweltering smell of action, liven up your senses, lick your lips and allow the shiver of justice to tantalize the napes of your necks to your collarbones with a bold caress down your vertebrates, regaining use of your backbones to a firm grip to your hip bones and
Push
you to action
rise
onto your foundling legs, move aside the cobwebs, bring function to your mouth and teeth to
devour
consume
feast
on the now
Feast on the Now
This is no slippery sheath of smoky silk leaving your grips,
this is no passing coy glimpse that was there, near, here, past there, then gone
This is Now
That needs to be stoked up to a higher passion,
held so tightly that your body leaves a permanent impression
You are the Nows
Waiting impatiently for the heres
What will it take to embolden your bodies into a frenzy for dignity?
When will you howl at this sham of a stability?
How will you pay homage to your forefathers while content at avoiding the unraveling of your own proud destiny?
This age of fickleness and selfishness is at a close
You cannot hide your charred flesh branded by the sobs of a neglected duty
The price of sweat and blood are mandatory
Lip-service of robust words hold no currency
Fate has set us a stage ripe
with urgency,
urgently urging on urgency
to a full bloom
aching to be plucked and it falls on you
whether it be cherished or crushed
time yearns for Now
Now longs for you
Nubian(Q) 