Africa Poem by Joseph Cimanuka

Africa, cradle of nations,
Land where strength and wisdom meet;
Across your vast horizons rise
Brilliant minds and untapped dreams.

Your soil is deep and fertile,
Your rivers pulse with life,
Yet your children hunger at your breast,
Unable to draw abundance from your womb.

O Africa, why do you stagger before strangers,
Yielding the pen that should write your future?
Why let distant hands sketch your destiny,
While you kneel for crumbs from another's table?

You were born to guide your people,
To stand upright upon your own ground,
Not to surrender your voice,
Nor deny your place beneath the sun.

Now is the season to sow with thought and labor,
To harvest the wealth of your own mind;
To forge tomorrow with your own hands,
And write your fate with your own ink.

Rise from dependence into purpose.
Let your fields feed your children,
Let your knowledge shape your future,
And let your people walk as owners,
Not guests,
Upon the land that bears their name.


A Poem by Joseph Cimanuka