African Soil

The Density and warmth of it engages with my course hand
African  soil is beautiful. I feel it slowly slide through my fingers embracing the African in it because let's face it.Africa is the mother land even after it was colonized by its oppressors it was still able to stand firm in its culture.
African Soil is strong, it is fiery. Reminding me of a hot Summer day where you can feel the warmth of the sun hug you as if you are hugging a long lost friend.I embrace it first not wanting to let go it. Because of its mesmerizing beauty, it encaptures me.Everyday i go back to the same African soil because it is where home is. I feel safe and peaceful, but slowly the textures start to fade. I find it difficult to go back to the soil, because I no longer find it as beautiful.
The wind has messed with it.
The rain has manged to wash away the Africans soil ability to mesmerize me.
The African Soil has somehow managed to develop a negative connotation.
It now reminds me of disgusting dirt that reeks of failure and misery.No longer my African Soil. I have now developed ambivalent feelings towards the African Soil.
I am no longer infatuated.
But, it sits there and sits and sits watching the hours go by. Waiting for me ?
Eager not losing hope that i will come home one day and waiting for me ?
I have become an abuser of grace but he still waits, for me ?
Loving me from a distance
Protecting me from a distance
But still waiting for me with open arms.