From An African Child Poem by ENOCH AANU OJOTISA

Is this the African community my father told me he lived?
In here now, life looks empty,
our hope has come to look vague.
And the temple of our ancestors is famished of its sacrifice.
Now the gods have grown hungry,
and no one looks after the throne of our morality.
The African tradition to our children is opaque,
but the abomination is transparent in our minds.
Who will bring back the lost glory of the Egyptian sunrise?
Will the romantic sunset of Kenya be returned with moonlight tales?
Or shall the empires of powerful Kings be heard of and read in our schools?
Even the savior on the cross, and the prophet on the mat,
have both been neglected by immoral civilization.
Africa! Rise! Kwame Nkrumah!
Will your sweat be in vain?
My mother tells me of a fighter for Africa...
But she says he's long gone back to where real Africans go...
And by the music of the BLACK PRESIDENT have I thought this all!
FELA I am an African child. Chant me the African songs from above.