Verses For My Mother Africa Poem by Uwakwe Uchechkwu

The sun rises each day with a loud cry
hidden under her beaming rays
She looks forth for the remains of her cousins, sighs and nods in anguish
And asks through the voice of her messengers,
'When shall Africa sway to her beauty? '

She looks on Africa
And sees these tides of misery hit hard
at her banks,
A world washed ashore by waves of reality
And tormented by the ghost of the day, corruption

Again she speaks of a sickened wind
The sickened wind blows o'er my home Africa
Roughly caressing the scare faces each time
Reviving the once sore wounds
And in countless doses of poverty it stings
Leaving fossils of anger and dishearten
All laying across the commons' heart

The sickened wind blows downwards, always
Where the human condition is a blessing bereaved of happiness,
Where the common tarries and sorrows in grief on a sinking world
Sinking into depths of woe

Again, the sun takes a second look on my mother Africa and sees the last drop of hope in the jar
Africa is the face of hope
I too, I see the faces of hope,
One of which I am
Am the proud one who writes to you

We are the free men in shackles
It shall break off for the last time
I know this and don't tell me it won't
'Cause hope and faith grows on my countries' fields,
From the arid lands to the river sides,
This tree grows
It shall break out from this ill soil
I too, am the proud one

Brother, we'll weave this loosing threads of love
We'll replace the peg of disunity with the adhesive of Pan-Africanism
It'll only take time.