Our Land Bleeds
Our land bleeds
For the future of the child,
And the injustice to the mild,
Our mother land wails
In solemn mournful pain
To the advantage of those
In malicious gain.
A man should bear his brow with sweat
To keep his dry lips wet,
For dialogue is only a ceaseless beat
To an unwanted song
While the conformist
Dances to a thousand wrongs.
It’s pathetic that the elders have fled abroad
With their sleeves and regalia stained
With the blood of our murdered destinies;
Those whose path we shall never again tread.
For the land seeks vengeance for her dead;
From the crying blood of our martyred philanthropists
To the dying courage of our persecuted activists.
Blood-letting revolutions indeed are senseless,
But we are hurt with our tongues; burnt
In the flames of their own power hunt.
Now we call for the uprising of literate minds
Till equity and justice stand on our father land.
I stand my ground on the pillar of intolerance
In a world where lack of courage makes men scarce.
I pray, ‘So help me God’