Bleed and heal

A land so fair yet her people's hearts are wroth with pain. Pain whose pangs are evident in the hunger and illness Mother Africa's children suffer daily. Ailed by violence her children cry out, yet their cries fall on deaf ears. Perhaps Mama's children speak a language undecipherable to the rest of the world. Perhaps the weary cries have become all too familiar, rendering what they resound, to be of no consequence.  A land where possibilities abide in abundance, yet her fertility is eroded by tears awash her countenance.

Africa bleeds, I bleed, does anyone hear?

A gaping wound long inflicted

Festering with a puss my all corrupts

Resistance rising mingled with blood

Tears long shed their meaning lost

Voices choked to silence by lies

The wound throbs a broken wince

Galleys abreast where hope once laid

Draining with them substance to enrich

Barrenness dousing the desire to birth

Offspring a mere figment of dreams past

Aflame with yearning yet to possess cannot

The wound throbs a feeble wince

Thrones upon rolling hills manicured

Watered by sweat from children spent

Songs of praise turned venomous slander

Thundering feet unable to dance so plunder

Melodies once known long forgotten

The wound throbs a stifled wince

Gagged by toxins through scarred veins

Looking unto scales unjustly inclined

Paying a price dear for which is owned

Hands tied by inequality dipped chords

Disinheriting and stripping rightful heirs

The wound throbs alighting defiance

Clear Vision

The wise king said, "...Write the vision, and make it plain upon tables, so he may run that reads it...."
My heart has been yearning for an answer, for a sign, something to give substance to dream that seems rather flaccid under the weighty odds . As I recall the words of yet another "...no woman carries a child never to reach the season to birth..."
The dream to take part in the Unogwaja challenge at this stage seems far out of reach yet faith is the string that ties what could be with the present reality. So to write the vision down I have hastened to do, that it may be endorsed, maybe not a tablet of stone but upon a heart filled with hope. The vision is therefore clear, do whatever is humanly possible. To envision the end, I have busied myself, not that I may perchance claim honour or worse still bestow it upon myself but that I may do a service that may perchance change the life of at least one or two in Africa.