Roots To Me Poem by Earnest Gatuma

Segregation in status;
Paupers look suspicious
Could smell the rats in my rags,
Disparity in blessings insert the delta,
Whose God is greater?
Black lives and then what else matters?
Xenophobia curing expatriate influx,
Conscience craving absolution,
An antagonist talking in a remorseful tone?
Irony is toxic just like mercury is silver,
No easy flow up the jagged pillars,
Welfare bottlenecks set by state,
Juxtaposition towards the eastern plate,
Roots sharing barks branching astray,
Might break the shackles bounding my stay,
Or move the ground like Kunta Kinte.