I stepped on a stained piece of land
With a pungent smell of wet blood
Is this land Africa?
Is this the land on which I was named an orphan?
Is this the land on which I was sold a slave?
And its people still slumber in an environment of doom?
Oh how I wished…
Even a bird could whisper into my ears the name of that very land
But did I even need its inscriptions to read Africa?
When the blood I saw, was black?
When I heard the wails of their women and children in a native tongue
When the price of its humanity was still equivalent to the rattle of a gun?
Why must we destroy this beautiful Africa land?
I spent so many years on a foreign land
Where I was made to work so hard
Stoking their industrial fire and tilling their grounds
But I worked so hard
So they might not need another brother
that brother would stay with Mama Africa
and make her better
But I returned…
Only to see civil war grow
To see tears of our women and children unfold
The strength of the youth
being channeled into a weapon of self destruction
Whereas their fathers
mingle in drinking palm wine all day
All that the leaders hunger after
is how much power they gain
Even the breath of Mama Africa they will give away
Destroying the future of unborn generations today
Only if we will realize we are all the same
Only if I will start protecting coming generations from today
Hope and happiness will come our way
Never will it be too late
Until of course, from this positive course
Photo Courtesy of Steven Adusei Photography, Ghana