Nature's Cry Poem by Ofentse Mercy Hajane

Africa
My young son
Shot with a golden bullet through his brains
For no reason but reasons too many
The atrocities of his own elites
Bask under the same bullet that took his life.
I thought of leaving...
But living is too repulsive
If they hate me, be not frank
For they'll also hate you too.

Young mother begging
Trying to find joy
Food of the forgiven.
She carries her babies through the road of the suffering.
Cold and hunger had hit them dry.
The first words that the babies learn was "PLEASE"
For that's what their mother preaches
Night and day
Dusk and dawn.

When they came to my door step I refused to believe my dear son Africa was no more.
For they claim to have done it for the great of good "GOD"
He gobbled a disease of no hope
Dark and gaunt he was.
There was nothing of help they could fathom.

Yes!
He did drop to tears when they sank another bullet down his chest.
But I can never understand the beastliness entwined in a human's heart.
For it has never occurred to me that Africa was savage.

Civilized they claim the lives of many
Then after they scrape dry his carcass
Left it bony and charred
Scourged by their hate
Fear was the only antique they gave to them
To puzzle upon,
To study it
And to praise upon THEE (god)

If the superstitions were to be believe
Africa was cursed
Cursed.
Bloodied by those who seek his riches.
Silently through the night they waited for his arrival.
They took what was his.
His wallet
His freedom
And his wings
But for the last bullet that plunged straight through his heart
They never really knew that the real treasure Africa had was himself.

Wednesday morning
I heard a knock
My son was killed
A disease they had to eradicate
Hope was of far bay
And I the giver of life
I am left to muse at the darkness of empty space.
Worst
I am left immortally infertile.

Ofentse Hajane