Cradled under the burning sun so far from the cold would say our ancestors
Its rays like spears by Chaka, straight to the point
Warmed and cooled by the breezes from surrounding seas, a womb of creation
She brings fourth offspring lush and supple, strong and firm - its flora and fauna.
Her body is clothed in lush green, of both wild and gentle forms
Sinewy hairs of trees spring up to the height of stars, bulbous and slim
And gigantic streams of sweat flood the crevices in her skin - the Niles and the Zambezi
Dare listen to their deafening flow, hissing and gurgling all the way to the sea.
The body is not exposed but well covered in dignified attire
Her maiden beauty and sanctity is thereunder ensconced
Little would be her worth, if dished out to all, kings and villains alike
But to the most deserving by time and need, to feed and protect her own.
Woo to you Africa of my generation, Woo to you Africa of today
Your people inebriated by Western greed and creed, of gold and diamond rings
Have raped you, rended your attire, and exposed your sanctified possessions
You limp in pain, growl in poverty of economic wounds inflicted by politics of greed
Woo to you Africa, for the spilt blood of you children haunt the land
Your flora and fauna almost extinct, you are bereft of heritage
Woo to you Africa, a cradle of diseases, hunger and poverty
Your people are scattered, lost in hope and dejected - you uncaring mother!
Woo to you. You have turned son against son for your nipples bleed xenophobia
Look how they shout with their mouths full of hate, their teeth crimson red, vying for blood
Soon, another son's cries are heard no more, but only muffles of death throngs by his brother
Another Xenophobia attack? Not of East versus West, but of black against black while the West look riled.
10 October 2019
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem