CRY BELOVED
CRY BELOVED
immune to our eternal past
we who grew within this village
letting our oppressors
scorn, mock and ridicule
like ages past
I cry to you my father
we have become trees without roots
denied a sacred place in the forest
cut and trimmed to hide a primal call
the yearning to be free
cry my beloved country
as we weep
from genretaion to generation
like I did and you did and your father and his ....
we place sticks in the earth
and scatter seeds to the wind
now we lay down to slaughter
for another generation to pick up
shattered pieces of broken glass
our old ways have been disrupted...
we cannot return
but I can find no place in the new
draught covers the land
deep in the valley
but our spirit is strong when shall the rains come
to drench this land of plenty?
this age of vanity entices our cubs
to eat the lion
then cry out they have no shelter
we have become like a desert
lost in the confusion of chaotic voices
of a nameless people
father...I shout your name with pride
of your struggles to find a place in the Sun
to stand as a diamond upon a ridge
place you as the highest star in the firminent
now they rake you over the coals
as slow burning embers slash and burn a forest
littered with a primal past
trees planted strong in the earth
standing strong
amidst the winds of howling wolves
embracing the struggle
or the subtle quiet calm in the storm
mother ... fathernow they hunt our young again
another generation like the last
wounding young and old alike
while I lay numb and complicit to genocide
when shall these rains come
to drench this land of plenty?