Poem: Stolen Children
Mother Africa is crying... stolen children brutalised and murdered in foreign lands.
Know not of her love and heartache.
Ghost of their ancestors rise from the bottom of the ocean to which they flung themselves in desperate search for freedom, search now for freedom for their descendants.
Souls cannot rest.
Haunted.
A generation of pain and aching wounds open wide in screech like that of new born forever hungry.
The wail, both deafening and silent a birthmark uniting all who wear melanin in their armour
