Once a toddler, I was nurtured <br />and intoxicated with pure idealism <br />on the annals of your pristine glories <br />unpardonable grievances cruelly extorted <br />by your tryst with those twin brothers <br />beckoning tasseled packages of promises <br />dumped abruptly by your sated lovers <br />who were your deceivers from the start <br />you cover your nakedness with self-pity <br />reparations, dignity callously denied. <br /> <br />With tear stained voice I cried foul <br />like a wounded lion I prowled and lurked. <br /> <br />Now a teetotaler, I trudge the unbiased path of realism <br />the true foes seen in our own moral vices <br />heart cleansing hedged, procrastination embraced. <br /> <br />On this lonely crossroad I falter <br />as the morning sun of reality dazzled <br />and compelled me to calmly accept with a sigh <br />the unwillingness of the mirror’s verdict as the truth <br />an undiluted reflection of your ugly image. <br /> <br />But when I cry myself hoarse <br />Who will hear my weak voice? <br /> <br />The voice of our unfinished song <br />The song replete with much sorrow <br />The sorrow of our heavy hearts <br />The hearts of our young leaders <br />The leaders of our tomorrow <br />The tomorrow of our dear Africa <br />The Africa, our only true new Africa. <br /> <br />Like a phoenix rising from the crucible of dust <br />ascend the true throne of purged conscience.<br /><br />Dela Bobobee<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/africa-10/
