AFRICAN CHILD

Kampala sunset falls on
peasants, exhausted, spent.
Simple meals from things
grown to feed themselves
and their children.

Kayendeke clutches her
ragdoll while her small
body slides onto her cot.
A time for dreams of
sunsets in a better place.

Does she think about me
as I do her?
Thousands of miles away,
living in a mud and grass hut.
yet she is my daughter.
My child who I will care for.

I send pictures and stickers
in hopes of entertaining her.
Maybe she will go to school now.
Maybe the small donation will
change her life.

Kayendeke. I repeat her name
until it sounds like the beating
of a drum. A sound of hope.
A cadence of “follow me, follow me.”

Beautiful Black daughter with
eyes readying themselves for
encouraging sights, with the
African sunrise.