The Enigma of a Cross
By Moses Kainwo, Freetown, Sierra Leone.
Tell me,
What is a cross?
Is it white, is it black,
Is it white and black?
Is it a feeling in the head, is it a feeling in the skin,
Is it a feeling in the head and skin?
Is it a tree with healing branches, is it a tree with no healing branches,
Is it a tree with healing and no healing branches all at once?
Is it for a sane man, is it for a man not sane,
Is it for the sane and insane all at once?
Is it a symbol for one God, is it a symbol for many gods,
Is it a symbol for one and many gods all at once?
When America parades, put it before me,
When Africa parades, put it before me.
In the evening put it between the sky and me,
Let its shadow fall on the sky and me.
My eyes should see that cross which they sing about,
That cross, which they talk about.
My hands should touch that cross, which has nail marks;
That cross, which has rope marks.
If this table and this paper and this pen are crosses,
Tell me—so I know I have a cross.
If this country and this leader and these friends are crosses,
Tell me—so I know I have a cross.
If this meeting is a cross,
Tell me—so I know I have a cross.
What is a cross?
Only tell me.
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