The blink saw men whose eyes were red
Milking us dry in the rainy season of no wits
Letting our prayers become their inheritance at daybreak
The minutes pass to testify to our stand
On the grounds, that life has mysteries untold
Unfolding only at the apex of history
Look and see fright uncovered to mere men
Nations bark to wishes of the lords
Whose eyes turned blue in summer?
Beating us into the pot that is African
Our heritage in the bush called destiny
Within the hands of the master’s wish
Whose intentions are too good to be ignored?
We landed inside the prison on the edge
But rising means building a new palace
In the land we inherited
Only at the recognition
that we are less strangers!
« return.