I'm an African, not just by my ebony skin.
Nor by the look in my eyes or fear on my face.

My heart is tattooed with the marks of our tradition and my tongue is dipped in the Brew of parables.
My mythology is one of controversies and rolling skulls.

I'm an African,not because I read one myth about us.
But because I tasted the waters of our land,and it tasted like nature,in its natural form.

I know I'm an African, because my hair has specks of wisdom.