From Pain to Freedom: Africa’s Motherly Resilience

In blood, she seemed to find its end,

She sensed it all, a message to send.

Beside her, your aroma did blend,

Innocent heart, a plea to mend.

Dark tomb, where masters rule and descend,

Silenced creatures, stories left untold, no amend.

Fresh is the memory, wounds yet to mend,

Season's patches, scars we can't transcend.

But deep down, she knows she's on the mend,

No longer captive, her spirit to defend.

Off the cliff, she was thrown, an honour they pretend,

Survival her fate, a new chapter to attend.

Freedom came with bullets, a battle to defend,

Her children fed on your poisonous trend.

Her values were raped, her spirit couldn't suspend,

Left in poverty, her strength they'd rend.

Even in the grave, she'll cry to the end,

Tell the Universe, your apologies never did extend.

If you could feel her pain, my friend,

A curse on the universe, no peace to extend.

Yet she's meek and peaceful, her message to send,

A home for the universe, its wounds to mend.

Call her your mother, let unity ascend,

Children of Africa, on her love, depend.

She's the Mother of all, let her love extend,

A beacon of hope, where hearts transcend.