Trod in footsteps of her history
Perhaps you will uncover hidden mystery
It's a journey to walk and discover her ministry
When eyes grow dim and conscience turns into casuitry
No vision no breath no smell all efforts are sophistry
Desire to speak with no freedom
She can't allaud her children in their stardom
In a foreign land with discomforts all is boredom
All her wealth and strength are in private fiefdom
Her children are slaves and wanderers in their heirdom
Identity is lost and burried
All virtues in her offsprings are impaired
It's hot it's heavy eyes turns red
A future that was aborted her people wallow in ocean of blood
A spectacle to the world all her fields are plastered
She is a slave
Her children departs at tender age to grave
No smile no laughter no speech she's told to behave
All her vain fruits are gathered in basketweave
It's dark it's dark it's a grave
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Comments1
motherland, heed our tears
mother tongue, hear our pleas
red sands, mass graves
abandoned heart's and smiles
in children's eyes
Sun rises, bakes our future's
dust in our eyes
there is little we aspire towards
blanket hope's
dreamless sleep, never a full
Moon
we traverse life, reaching
for a glimpse
of justice, for a shard of possibility
untainted by greed
motherland, heed our tears
mother tongue, hear our pleas
Thanks so much LB.
There is still hope
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