The Echo Of The Cradle Poem by Chinedu Dike

The ocean ports grew still but sorrow walked the land,
They harvested the human soul for private gain.
The home became a farm behind a heavy door,
A cold and endless trap where helpless lives were bred.

They chose the young and brave to swell a master's gold,
And placed a heavy cost upon a maiden's grace.
They stole the sacred milk of every broken home,
And traded sacred lives to feed a corporate shame.

Young daughters wept as mothers in the early dawn,
With no protecting shield against a system's hand.
They nursed the babes of those who held the whip,
While their own tiny infants vanished from the land.

The cruel routine tore apart the family tree,
And swept away the names of every generation.
A father could not save his own beloved line,
Or stop the sudden pain of forced separation.

Yet secret embers burned beneath the quiet night,
As people whispered vows to comfort one another.
They followed silver starlight toward a lasting light,
To find a peaceful home for father, child, and mother.

Though modern memory still wears a heavy scar,
The deep, enduring bond of kinship survived the night.
The human spirit rose above the cruel design,
Reclaiming all the freedom that the system took.