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’