Tell me mother Africa,
where are your sons and daughters,
where are your heroes and heroines,
where are your law makers,your kings,
your chiefs, and your local priests? They were all captured,
bond with chains,
inside their nose are strains,
like fat herds,
Shipped across the sevens seas,
to an alien's land,
to cultivate their own leaves,
till their vineyards,
while you mother Africa,
lay desolate and barren,
did you consult orunmila, shungo, your ancestors and spiritual wise ones,
before embracing those aliens?
Tell me mother Africa,
where are your dark work of arts,
The ones your children's caved, brought,
given as a priceless offerings to you,
to spare their lives,
to spare their children,
to spare their homes,
you turned your back on them,
You gave them destruction for peace,
shame for shelter,
harvest for famine,
you shut your hears to their anguish and sufferings,
Tell me mother Africa,
where were your gods,
where were your immortal spirits,
where were your high borns,
Tell me mother Africa... (weeping)
Tell me mother Africa,
where are your riches,
your fertile land harvest,
the return of your seeds,
the rivers of oil flowing in your blood stream,
like mosquitoes,
you are sucked dry,
you gave out nourishment while they transmit into you fever...
(weeping)
Tell me mother Africa,
will you ever heal,
After this cataclysmic fall?
©iam.a.poet
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