Broken Homes

If peace is to rain the sky most be cloudish 
There must be thunder and lighting 
To let precipitation oversee
The faith of our black nation 
 Seeds of peace will germinate
Fear of the unknown will be retaliated

If I take a glance over our broken homes
I see smiles yet tears of faithless hopes
I see the sun shining
The white colored smiles of innocent souls
I see waves of our blessed oceans
We dress in hide and skins
With mellow sounds of drums
Sweet to our hearing
Hailing the pride of our people

But this peace is massacred 
By him with the white skin 
Our Culture westernized 
Our dignity he terrorized 
Our hearts crust we are lost
 We are in broken homes
And we need a fixer 

Alas! If peace is to rain 
The broken homes must be fixed  
Across the dark stress a ray of light 
Accompanied by songs of our land 
Our children’s future?
Sharpen your swords to lead a war
Of restoring what was kept 
Beneath the roots 

The back nation is death 
And tomorrow lies on a spinning coin
The road to our home seems rough 
Footsteps are footing heading to 
The promised Land
Where love and dignity is awake
Ready to heal the wounds and scars
Of our broken homes
So that our societies can be reborn 
For we are in broken homes
And we need a fixer

We are in a bloody war
A zone of hungry wolves
Where business is mute
The thread of unity is cut
Birds are no more chirping
Our children are crying
The black nation is dead!

Poet: Swaibou Sey

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