A New Africa
Africa,
our
Africa
wearing
sack
clothes
and
ashes
of
shame.
This
was
not
the
land
our
fathers
fought
with
their
aneamic
blood.
It
is
not
the
jewel
that
was
bought
with
a
costly
pay,though
many
who
sweated
in
that
haggle
folded
it
in
their
breast
pocket
and
picked
its
contents
one
by
one
like
groundnut
seed///
Africa,
my
Africa
now
torn
like
rag
in
bits
and
sold
the
worth
of
a
mask;entertaining
and
shocking.
Is
this
your
pace,
slow
like
the
milipede
in
foiled
attempts?
Is
this
you
begging
arms
with
perforated
plates.
Weeping
dry
tears?
You
dwafed
like
afflicted
stems
on
succulent
tree?///
Oh!
Africa
land
of
good
grain.
Your
farmished
figure
fades
away
our
faith
in
thee.
It
makes
us
curse
the
cord
that
hold
us
even
before
birth,but
tears
cannot
wash
away
your
blackness
on
our
skin.
In
this
fire
that
burn
you,though
hotter
than
hell,
we
shall
mingle
our
tears
and
through
steadfast
march
redeem
our
Africa
from
servitude.
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