A voice rose, A flame igniting the dawn, Thomas Sankara, the son of the soil, Who showed us how to stand tall, with our heads held up high. With a fist full of dreams, And a heart wide as the sky, He whispered to Africa, “You are enough, you are free.” He called us to […]
The drumming has ceased, Once they sang of harvest, now they echo in the hills, A different beat—filled with grief, shattered peace, Where we used to dance, now thick and unyielding dust settles. Fires burn where homes once stood, Flames licking at memories, consuming lives into ash. Our children, with their eyes wide open, stare
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I leave my village, like dust carried by the wind, Carrying dreams wrapped in old cloth, The river whispers goodbye, As the earth beneath my feet turns foreign. The sun is different here, it seems colder, And the streets speak in tongues I don’t know. But I carry the warmth of home in my chest,
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I walk between worlds, One made of concrete and glass, while the other is made of clay and fire, Each step is a dance between who I am, And who they were. I speak in two languages, One forged in the heat of the city, The other woven in the songs of elders, Echoing in
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She walks, Barefoot on dreams, dressed in strength, Colorful as the kente clothe, Her spirit flowing like a river through time. She carries the weight of expectations, Straddling the edge of tradition, With modernity pulling at her hem. Her voice resounds like a drum in the silence, Echoing through marketplaces and boardrooms, Shattering the chains
You stand, dressed in your fine agbada, Hands raised high, promises as dense as smoke, You say it’s for the people, But your words turn to ash before they land. We see the bags of gold you hide, Behind the mansion’s gates, behind your lies. The wealth you take, not yours alone, But ours, the
Why? Why do you tell me sweet words, With a voice as smooth as palm wine, When your heart is far from mine, Not with the love that holds like a mother’s embrace, Not with the strength of ancestors’ prayers? Why do you promise rain, When you leave me thirsty in the dust? Why dance
I’m standing at the edge of desire.An unquenchable flame that does not flicker,Insatiable, I always want more,A thirst never quenched. The brand-new car, the castle,the latest gadgets in my handEach one a transient pleasuresslip like footprints in the sand. More wealth, more power,more eulogy, more things,Yet, the heart feels empty,With each new golden ring. Why
Remember the love of our youth,The promises we made in whispered truths.Remember the love that we shared,The names we gave our unborn kids, so carefully paired. Remember how we planned our lives,with promises of togetherness, where hope thrives.Remember the memories, the words we said,Of never letting go, the dreams we shared. Did you forget, or
Years notched in whispers, a love turned to dust,Pride, like a serpent in the garden, has curled where trust once thrust.You craved the glitter, the shine, a life you believe I couldn’t bring,Blinded by whispers, poisoned by friends, a gilded, hollow ring. My heart, a canvas splashed with you, now marred by shades of gray,Your
