CRY MY BELOVED AFRICA

Oh how we were great
a continent full of might and pride
A beauty unparallel
to the world

Our skins beautifully black,
gleaming in the sun
Our hair, thick and full
Our lips, full and soft.

It was a time
when our men had voices
like gods; strong and resonant
like the booming of the drum
A time when our women
were women, our beauty
not hid by the ugliness of shame
but projected by the strength of
our pride.

But alas, who weeps for you now
My Africa,
when your greatness is long forgotten

Who weeps for you,
when you have been invaded and conquered

Do they weep
when the lash
falls on your backs,
blooding and scarring
your perfection

Do they weep when He
comes at night
and robs you of your dignity
and innocence

Or weep
when you are scattered
and fight amongst each other
reduced to rubble; played out like fools

When we are no longer
a continent of pride but of shame
scorned and rejected

When your greatness is now
only a faint echo in the wind,
scarcely heard by anyone.

Who weeps for you Africa?
I DO!
I weep for the children
with no names
I weep for the people
who lost their names
I weep for the humiliations
bestowed upon us
I weep for the humiliations
accepted by us
I weep for the rejection
we face from the world
I weep for the self-rejection
we inflict on each other