Poem by Ramadaan Ibro

(Second-generation African Canadian)

Hey motherland,

You probably don’t know me

But from what my mother told me

You’d sure know how to hold me 

Hey motherland,

The soil out here is brittle

I’m carrying your seeds

But I’ve planted very little

Hey motherland,

Why did you never call me?

I had to grow here on my own

I feel like you forgot me

Forget it I don’t need you

A part of me still grieves you

My parents had to leave you

Did you feel a way? 

Do you have disdain for me too?

Hey missus motherland,

Cocoa like my mother’s hands

I’ll look out to you from this ocean sand

And try to imagine what we could’ve had.