Will Tear Drops Fall From Mother Africa's Sky?
For years I've dreamed of the Motherland
Africa's waters, Africa's sand
The Land from where my Fathers came
Of which I was taught to be ashamed
A land of sorrow, a land of pain
A land accursed, a land profaned
Yet my heart aches for a Mother I never met
Ripped from her womb, Oh How I wept
Nursed by surrogates in a Foreign Land
Nursed by ruthless, wicked hands
Raised by the whip, Shaped by the Lash
Paraded naked and bare, Auctioned for Cash
Drank sour milk from bitter hands
Oh How I yearned for my Mother's land
From thousands of miles I can still hear her cry
I can see tear drops fall from Mother Africa's sky
I see her womb still bleeding I see her wrought with pain
Grieving for stolen children no longer bearing her name
I need to believe that she still yearns for me
I need to show her that I am now free
Free to return to the land from which I came
Free to show her I am no longer ashamed
Free to wear with pride Mother Africa's name
But in my heart I'm filled with dread
Will she even care whether I'm alive or dead?
Will I be greeted with open arms?
Will I be reproached, Will I be scorned?
Will she remember her children the living and passed on?
Will she know of our struggle ... Rest in Peace Trayvon.
Will I see my reflection in her very eyes?
Will tear drops really fall from Mother Africa's skies?
Will we have the same walk? Will we share the same tongue?
Will we dance to the same beat of the African drum?
Will my doubts and fears be put to rest?
Will it be a joyous reunion when East meets West?
So as I journey to the Motherland to see Africa's waters, Africa's sand?
To behold the beauty of the African skies
I pray I see my reflection in Mother Africa's eyes.
My journey to the Motherland came to a Bitter Sweet end
Having drunk from her deep waters, I shall never thirst again.
The very same rivers whose path led me to a forbidden foreign sea
Those very same rivers now beckoned and welcomed me.
I left her shores in shackles I now return free
And in her eyes I see Mother Africa has not forgotten me.
As for my brothers and sisters, I must confess
Some rejoiced in my return... Some didn't even know I left.
Many look at me and see I'm well dressed
They envy the life I live in the West
Some will gladly trade their struggle for mine
That which we find wanting to them is sublime
We must forgive our brothers, their very grave debt
Though some stripped us and sold us while Mother Africa slept
Like Jesse searching Joseph, she awakened with hysteria and wept
Yet from the prison to the palace, we were destined to reconnect
Like the Hebrew boy Moses Raised by the Pharoah's hand
So must the Black of the West awaken and return to lead their
Brothers of the East to the Promised Land.
We have our own struggle but it's a common battle we fight
This Joshua generation can tear down walls of racial oppression if our vision and our voices unite!
Blow the trumpets, beat the drums!
Oh what a day when the children of Africa again become one
Until then I empowered by this
I am no less a child of Africa though I lack citizenship.
I am a Black of the East shaped by the West
I am uniquely Black ...Uniquely blessed!
By Kamille Robinson AKA Aku Akofah
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