In desolate realms where we were born,

Far from home, in wander we mourn.

No roads, no rails, bridges to mend,

Our heritage lost, a shattered blend.

War’s cruel migration, fleeing in fear,

From hostile rulers, enslavement near.

Languages vanish, culture erased,

Assimilation’s mask, a facade embraced.

Claiming oppressors’ words as our own,

African roots, in silence, overthrown.

Once greatness and spirits held so high,

Stolen legacies, beneath the sky.

Colonizers’ tongues on our lips now reside,

Spiritual echoes drowned in material tide.

Yet time calls for a shift, a revival so keen,

Using knowledge to mend what’s been.

Fountains of wealth, wisdom’s cascade,

Scholars’ bequest in the heritage laid.

Creative forces unite, reclaim the past,

Build schools and libraries, a legacy cast.

Heal the spiritual sickness, knowledge the cure,

Self-love blooms, making the spirit pure.

Cars and buildings, restored with grace,

People too, in this sacred space.

Speak, acknowledge, let social ties bind,

A step to reclaim what’s left behind.

In the dance of cultures, a heritage reborn,

With each wave and gesture, a new morn.