The Revolution Poem by Leena Amwaalwa

It began in the 1800s.
Pioneered by tactical barefoot warriors.
Shouldered by gallant gladiators.
Underequipped yet driven.
Energized by chants, songs and determination.
Fuelled by the desire for freedom.
Freedom for themselves, future generations
and those who couldn't fight for themselves.
O ye yoke of colonialism!

It was gradual, bitter and brutal.
Yet they eventually emerged victorious.
A vitoria e certa.
Sweet freedom.
Only, the feeling did not last.
For today we are on a different mission.
We are waging a different war.
We are wielding different weapons.
We are singing different songs.
We are moving to a different tune.
We are chanting different slogans.
We are stirring a different direction.
We are employing different tactics.
We are launching different offensives.
For we are facing a different enemy.

I say the battle is just warming up.
I say we pick up the torch and soldier on.
That we hold hands and march forward as one.
I say we wage war against all social ills.
That we don't stop until we are all truly free.
I say we lift as we rise, so none is left behind.
It starts here.
It starts now.
A luta continua; vitoria e certa.