No Freedom In Libya for The Nameless Ones Caged Without Cause, Twice Condemned. Poem by Akwu Sunday Victor

No Freedom in Libya

For the nameless ones caged without cause, twice condemned.

We rose from home with sunburnt feet,
Chasing a promise beyond defeat.
But freedom, ah freedom! a word we sang
Till we crossed the desert and were left to hang.

In Libya's womb of sand and chain,
We were neither dead nor fully sane.
Black skin marked us, not as kin,
But as cursed, condemned, and born in sin.

They said, 'Go home, ' then slammed the gate,
Mocked our hunger, laughed at fate.
Released us once into dust and sky,
Then netted us like birds that fly.

Back again to hellish cells
No light, no law, just iron smells.
We drank our sweat, we chewed our pain,
We whispered names that died in vain.

One man spoke of Ghana's green,
Another wept for a child unseen.
Somalia, Nigeria, Mali too,
Each name a dirge, a tear-stained view.

A boy once asked, 'Why are we here? '
The guard just grinned and pulled his beer.
'No reason, ' he said, 'you're just too black.
Your future died on migration's track.'

Oh Mother Africa, where is your cry?
Your children rot while vultures fly.
Europe turns its silver eye
And counts its gold while we die.

We are the dark ghosts in their file,
Unseen, unheard, without a trial.
Some of us speak in shattered tongues,
From minds dismantled, lungs unstrung.

Yet still we hope, and still we dream
Of rivers pure and skies that gleam.
Of lands that welcome not betray
Where Black is blessed, not thrown away.

One day, the walls will fall like ash,
And truth will rise from every lash.
Till then we chant from cage and floor:
We are not less. We are much more.