I write to heavens for thy nation(vi)

I WRITE TO HEAVENS FOR THY NATION(Vi)
 

The Voices,  
that never sat behind high walls  
I write of.

Dear Heavens,

I write not of the voices of kings  
Not the voice who wear robes,  
Nor the voice, who feed on pain.

I write of young voice  
that grew from cracks of suffering.  
Voice that moves from street  
That knows no joy.

Pain spoke for us  
Hunger made our speech  
Fear won the competition  
Silence took the award.

But one day,  
the children of the red soil  
will find their voice,  
Silence will no longer win.

They shall speak not  
with swords or bullets  
but with hope and song,  
banners and dreams.

They shall gather  
In one sky  
different tribes and tongues  
Carrying one burden  
one cry, one nation.

Heavens!  
Will you hear, when they cry?  
Will you listen, when they talk?

While it echoes through streets  
like river searching for peace.  
Young women holding postcards,  
like their life were missing.

Young men stood before fear  
And made it their slave,  
will you see them?  
will you see their hearts?

They have grown tired,  
tired of burying dreams,  
of bathing in pain,  
And pleading with death.

Is this the punishment,  
for being a child of this nation?  
If this is the punishment,  
how do we pay for it?

When history remembers  
this generation,  
will it remember their pain?  
Their courage, or their wounds?

Will you remind them,  
of our wounds,  
our voice that travels miles  
Carrying prayers with pain?

Dear Heavens,  
Do remind them of our history.

Funmilayo Bayo  
Funmiwrites