MOROCCO
in Africa
where the centuries slept
as time moved around us:
the silence of Jebel Toubkal
washing aching feet
oiling liberated souls
Africa pulled us into her
like a woman hungry for freedom,
sated with quietude.
With cafes like cages
where men sit vacant eyed and dull
sipping mint tea
and staring into the future,
locked in medinas
with toys for tourists
and gods of another planet
we walk on planets
and see that God is bigger than the mountains of the Maghreb
we sip our coffee
and dream of Andalusia
where passion dances
and pounds the concrete of the city red
with blood
and lust
we dream of simple rain
and clouds
to lessen the hot winds of disease
and a simple passionate kiss from her
whose mouth is sweeter than figs
in Africa where my revolutionary love hunts the past
to paste it with the graffiti of her kiss.