Africa, the most beautiful lady I’ve ever seen.
Mother of millions of souls in every corner.
Some already dead, some still alive.
Africa, mamma Africa.
Whenever I think about you, I cry.
I cry neither because you’re a poor lady
Nor because you failed me.
I cry, yes I cry all the tears of my body,
‘Cause my brothers and I, have failed you.
Yes, we have, and trust me.
It’s a thing I’m not so proud of.
Let me make it up to you Africa.
We can still change history.
The newborns are ready to make a change.
To change the fate of their beloved mamma.
Please give them a chance.
In them, you must believe mother,
They are the change,
They are who you’ve been waiting for.
I see your tears when the moon shows up at nights full of agony
I read your sorrows when the sun shines up in the sky.
Every day I see your tears in oceans.
I feel your pangs in the air we breathe.
I hear your cries when every baby cries.
I feel you, I see you.
You, who gave all the love a woman is capable of,
To some children who turned out to be such a deception,
Those who stood against your progress.
My mother land.
Your beauty is fading away
While your grief growing so high.
Let us help you,
Let us bring your joy back,
We, the newborns of pioneers,
We, the storm fighters.
Why would your boyfriend be in charge of our finance?
Europe can be your partner but not our father.
Keep your wealth, your children need it.
We want to make you great again mamma.
It is our duty, it is our call.
Let us redefine you Africa.
Let us redefine you.
You’re our mother,
You’re our pride
Let us make you proud.
Paterne Freeman Shadowriter, As We Walk Through Life, Poetry Volume