How did we get here? That the cries of the innocent no longer irks our soul? Tell me how the blood stains on our land, flowing freely, is no longer seen as a proof of carnage?
While those alive mourn those dead in fear, the killers jubilate so loudly, we can hear them sing from afar. Their rythmic dance steps insult the memories of their victims for free.
Oh my land, my home! Can I still call you so? All I see now when I remember home is a slaughter field, where my ancestry is being eroded, violated, destroyed by people I once called brothers and fellow men.
How different are they from me? I see none, our skin tone shows we are supposed to be united as a common front against those who come from beyond the big wide sea to tap and mine the blessings of the creator hidden deep underneath our huts, just for you and I but alas today, they sit back and watch, without having to lift a finger, we turn and strike deep into the heart and bellies of ourselves
Wives left with no husband's, mother's left with no children to sorround them, maidens raped right in front of their fathers and our young ones sent to the great beyond in an instant, in one night..
Who do we call? Where do we go from here? A people with no sense of direction for our leaders either sold it for bread or were silenced for refusing bread. Who teaches the few young ones still left that the way of the sword is not the only language the world understands?
Oh the land I call home! The smoke still smells of burnt bamboos from my huts, the streams now sour as carcasses litter the path to the stream. Will morning ever come? Will the cover of darkness on our minds ever be removed?
Will this voices of pain and deep sorrow ever sing and dance to the early morning chirping of birds? While our leaders walk around with broad smiles and laughter as if their homes are safe and secure, the people they lead languish in utter disbelief of their arrogance even in the face of excellent failure on oaths taken to protect lives and property
Oh my land
My home
The silence of those meant to act has become too loud, it's deafening! The bloodsheds have become endless, the pains unbearable and the mockery too hard to swallow.
.jpeg)
