The Last King of Scotland

There is a white man who comes in the middle of the night with glowing blue eyes. He dares to caress the breast of your dark and supple women as he glides past your landscape. Ravaging the air you breathe with the aroma of curiosity, he is confident, and loves how the breeze ruffles his curly bundles while he presses on to his mysterious destination. Now we see the white man as we peek at him through our silky green leaves. He arises out of the chalky outlines made in our streets, the white dust at the front door steps, the enamel wearing off our teeth. We desperate for our faces to be a part of the darkness he sees. White man will tell our story with the voice we use in our dark place. When he arrives at his destination, the dark we live in will gape open. It will swell open into one big path with another bulb of hope glowing softly at its other end, the threshold to his glory. In white man heaven he will tell the stories of black faces so sweet their dreams appeared through the flesh of their cheeks. These faces have an indeterminable light rising from out their misery onto the landscapes of a white man’s journey. His rights to obtain a soul, his longing to possess something that radiating and eternal, something too underneath the white man be corrupted, this is his misson, to find dark places so his skin can be cloaked in them. He will ride into the night until he sinks in it, where his face is like no face yet his face every face, until he is so sullen he is once again pure. And on his final ride home, he will thank you for the light from within that you pressed up against your flesh to let him see. He will summon you to white man heaven so he can show the people the indestructible joy you have in your bones, these bones that give you the stamina to witness white heaven, to have your face cupped in his hands and then again released to fall back into your incorrigible joy and patient rivers, into your depth of soul, and your diseased survival, back into your black night with white eyes pressed up against your landscape.