An alternance in the cycle of exploitation,
Fragrance of beauty, meant to deceive, snitch, profit and leave.
A harmattan rain for the blind,
Though vicious in its drop,
Carrying along an acidity burying the rising seeds of the field.
This is my home, Africa, where democracy is best practiced on paper.
From my history I recall;
“Of the people”,
One hand, one mind, one accord,
Without discrimination, sexism, racism or capitalism.
Quite senseful when paperless
Yet senseless in this era of phoniness.
Mandela’s vision of the people has been twisted to “of my circle”.
What are we doing of his vision of selflessness for development?
“For the people,”
From the little baby to the old Man,
That was the concept,
Before being transformed to “For my pocket”,
In a season where everyone cares only for its steps,
Forgetting how far goes a combined strength.
“By the people,”
Each voice matter,
We build together,
The plan, it was.
Greediness now poisoned the political game,
Where are we going with such limitations in the Mindset?
A pillar of great nations, representative of freedom.
Why are you a relic in most black communities, countries?
Doing nothing about our system is synonym to betraying our skin,
For we are strong, smart and limitless.
It’s time we stopped complaining and start building the dream,
A vision followed by actions best pollinates to a reality.