Lost in chaos, her soul weeps.
For generations spent wallowing in the uncertainty of darkness.
While other mothers saw the rise of their children and fought to keep the peace.
She watched and prayed for hers to rise.
But then they came,
They saw the potential in her children, one her children saw not in themselves.
They saw the pride in contentment and the purity of ignorance.
Fruits of labor once held meaning, the kingdoms of her children forged through blood and sweat.
Her children were trampled beneath the heels of the established order.
They were denied life; they accepted death like a beautiful bride.
Now her children feed on own flesh, just like the animals they claim they are.
While the slave drivers drink tea with their bankers and give tips out of fattened purses.
She weeps, she weeps.
I see war, she sees starvation.
I’m lost in the lies, she sees through it all.
After all, mother knows all.
Her children plunder, oh how they plunder.
Setting asunder the very essence of togetherness.
There is so much honey in the land; gold can be found on every finger.
The land will be free one day she tells herself.
One day her children will understand that the land is all they have.
The pessimist in her laughs, he scorns.
He tells her:
‘Your children will never be free
They will never mature
They are the darkness, their skin tells this story’
Her children have been stripped of choice,
Foreign religion tears their reasoning to shreds.
They live and die in the name of a God they do not understand.
She weeps, oh how she weeps.
Written by Akinbobola Adeyemo
Photo credits: www.gritossurdos.blogspot.com