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Sing for the dead
The warriors who came before us
And traded their lives
So you and I can know freedom.
Blow your horns for the women
The unsung mothers
Whose wombs bore those spear throwers
Who fought off raining bullets.
Salutations to our forefathers
To our ancestors
Men who unknowingly sired
A generation of slaves and liberators.
Don't forget the young maidens
Who braved smoke-filled kitchens
To feed the same men
Who were marked to die.
Pay homage
To the blood
That went cold
While staining the soil
You call your home
I have been thinking of the black continent a lot lately. So much is being revealed to me as my love for it's rich and brutal history continues to surge.
wambuku w.
