Cry, thou Mother

Cry, Thou Mother?

Cry, thou Mother—why dost thou weep?
What sorrow bends thy noble brow?
How came thy songs to mournful sighs,
And joy desert thy spirit now?

Thy robes still shield thee from the cold;
Thy rivers still their course maintain.
Thy fields yet yield their daily bread—
What unseen grief has wrought this pain?

Weep not for birds that leave the nest
To seek fair seasons far away;
Nor for the waters borne aloft
To bless the earth another day.

“No, child,” she said, “for these I weep not.
I weep for children of one womb
Who bare their teeth at flesh and blood
And make their brother’s land a tomb.

I weep for hearts that know no kin,
For hands that kindle hatred’s flame;
For sons who hunt their mother’s sons,
Yet dare invoke one Mother’s name.

Once all my children stood as one,
Bound not by border, tribe, or tongue.
Though many nations bore their names,
One blood flowed through their every vein.

Together did they bear the yoke;
Together did they wear the chain.
Together did they cry for dawn,
And together dreamed of freedom gained.

For them I gave my strength and youth.
Through blood and fire I carved a way.
I bore the lash, endured the chains,
That they might greet a brighter day.

My bravest children filled the cells;
Some kissed the gallows without fear.
Some perished nameless in the dust,
That hope might conquer hate and fear.

But lift thine eyes and look around—
What harvest greets my weary gaze?

Brother against his brother stands.
The stranger shares his brother’s face.
Homes are consumed by angry flames;
The innocent are chased away.
Hands once raised against oppression
Now spill a brother’s blood today.

Is this the freedom dearly won?
Is this the dream for which they died?
That sons of Africa should turn
Against the children at her side?

Are these the heirs of sacrifice?
The keepers of the sacred flame?
Or have they sold their father’s hope
For fear, for anger, and for shame?

No…

Not again.

Let every border yield to love;
Let every tribe its hatred cease.
For none who wounds a brother’s heart
Can truly claim the fruit of peace.

Rise, O my children—know your blood.
Remember whence your fathers came.
One Mother bore you, one earth feeds you;
Do not dishonour her great name.

© Oluseyi Ogunbanwo