Black & Untitled Poem by Ofentse Mercy Hajane

Unto the midst of hell.
I remained chained to my warrant of freedom.
My body knows only the scourge that
Dwells deep within the scourgerer.
With thorny whips they tear open his ebony skin.
With his grey hair he seem to feel no pain.
But pain he does endures.
But a foreign name he won't be given.
Out loud he calls,
"Sipho..."
"Sipho..."
His beautiful name.
But they only manage to call him,
"Sifo"...
... A disease.
He remained Black and Untitled once more.

They wished to feed him the title of a
Culture they twisted
They thwarted his name to suite
Their tongues.
With every span of a whip,
I too held my ground.
I was told that there is light when one reaches the end.
Oh really?
I was cast unto the forever darkness of my pain.
The battle I failed to battle.
But again I heard...
I heard his solely voice
'BLACK & UNTITLED'
It waked me to the light of life,
But then it lingered unto my head.
My ridden dripping bloody body of
Mine,
Thought of it corpse I assume they did.
I limped home.
Where the dark road may lead.
At times of such,
My country men dwells in the radiance
Of unity.
Home was anywhere under their
Presence.
Months went
I cried not
I vented away the sadness then engaged to anger.
With my dark heart.
I heard it again 'BLACK & UNTITLE'
It lingered once more
'A nation shall hold together! '
A reminder of an old man in the midst of a battle,
It is of his thought that my body slowly converted its
molecules into rage and vengeance.
They once raised no weapon against their deeded devil.
I begged differ,
For forever I shall remain,
Black & Untitled
For it will be hard to recall what has slain away your soul
And girdled your body.
It is because I'm Untitled
Over millions of the same.
While some, peacefully shall march
I will be the avenging angel to remind you of your crimes.
I shall curse no more
For you caste yourself with a foul spell.
But thy never shalt far bay to forget
That I am Black & Untitled