The African Political Activist

They came for me
In the dead of the night
They came to escort me, they said,
They came when the babies were asleep
At their mothers’ breast
When the chickens had gone to roost
They came when they could not see their shadows
Nor their shadows be seen

They came and we went
In the night’s darkest hour
When no one but ourselves
Knew that they had come and gone
Yes, no one knew that I had left with them
Or is it that they had left with me

They will come for you
They will come in the morning
They will come in with the sun
When their shadows are long and shapeless
They will lie in their words
And inundate you with questions
Which they will answer when you don’t

They will come, I know they will
For such is the lot of African political activists…