AFRICA{ A STURDY HOME CALL}

There rose a voice from the land where life was worshipped A mild call sheltered by an ancient culture that thrived on humanity

There rose a voice from the land where life was worshipped

A mild call sheltered by an ancient culture that thrived on humanity;

where the moon radiated with the glows of thousands stars,

where moonlight tales unraveled mysteries encased in the past night,

where sons saw through their father's old shrunk eyes.

There rose a call,

armoured in glittering honour,

through the decayed lips of fore-fathers who tread first on the land's face.

.

Amongst the year's pieces lost in time

There rose a call, incarnated into the scarred face of a lost warrior;

where the nightingale mourns in daylight with the voices of cremated souls,

where the land's voice was hollowed by foreign silence,

where memories were meandered by the blood of lost martrys

whose voices were buried with shroud beside their graves.

There rose a call,

a cry, emerged through the howls of raging whirlwind.

.

Yesterday, the day the flow of maimed tears were staunched

There rose a call, engulfed in burnt emotions

whose heat dried tears on the tired eyes

of sons who dug six-feet for the voices of their fathers;

where cuffed hands are joined to prevent the bleaching rays of white suns,

where the old sky were peeled off for the birth of new glow,

where the clamouring sea whirled to sing a song of a victorious tide,

There rose a call,

with an ancient voice, a thundering roar from once enslaved tongue

sounding like the fists of thunderclaps on the face of silence 

.

On the night bore by yesterday's womb

There rose a call, a stuttering voice drunk in mania

purging manifold of fate~written manifestoes;

where a man named his gun against his father's sons,

where strands of menace were melded into war.

There rose a call,

with a voice immersed in steamy pool of confusion.

.

Straddled on the sides of time

There rose a call, risen from yesteryears and night's dust

voiced out through the throat of the past, present and future

.

Dawn of today

There rose a call, a mellifluous homely call

that sailed far across the stormy sea of time

for the sons and daughters of AFRICA

To build a new empire with the sand of the past

and rise with the voices of fore~fathers which their fathers dug.

Written by: Adedeji Raphael