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Let me explain the dawn of her beauty.
Perharps in one word or two.
This to me isn't my duty.
Her wanders, a strange fiction to the world and me too.
The sweet necter of her smile,
that glows withing the colours of her skin.
She blends accross a mile;
Her face stained in His ink.
Beauty will perish,
from the lies that flourish.
Her children have seen her in her gloriouse days.
When from her hips came fourth the empires and ways.
Kindoms feared; and Names.
Out of the vasness, i hear the pain she bore,
from the conflicts she saw.
A mother of civilisation and more.
Her children bound by the chains of war.
The green to favour the Gods,
Her story we all forgot.
Under the Sun of her birth, came the rest.
Now, the land of the dead,
from which came the first.
The concept within her womb
is the cause beyind her open wound
The past that keeps,
Our history we greef.
In her heart; the birth place of all cultures.
She now, is but a pickings of a volture
Those children she bore are doomed,
Our mother gone to soon

From dirt and earth she grew,
that cold tears on her face like due.
Home is all i knew, a place for a few.
They say she is Dark and Crood;
To embrace us all, even the fools.
"Africa" my mother and boo,
Will always welcome you, you and You.

                By Lekene Paul

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