Why, Africa, do you whisper when you should roar?
Why ask for crumbs when your hands can sow?
Is it in the soil of your soul you doubt,
Or lost in echoes of a colonial shout?

Why question your might, your heritage grand?
Why thirst for lesser when you hold the sand?
Africa, why seek shadows for your light?
In whose eyes do you find your might, not right?

Bound by chains of thoughts not your own,
Why, oh why, is your wisdom left alone?
Africa, in your eyes, the world should seek,
Not let your spirit be weak or meek.

Questions linger, doubts they sow,
But within your heart, the answers grow.
Africa, rise, for you hold the key,
To unlock the greatness meant to be.

© All Rights Reserved
Ruth Oyerinde.