by Philo Ikonya
Power packed,
energy and determination ring,
in a singing vision.
Engagement.
Songs injustice cannot break,
fight, or stop.
They hunt you for
singing justice on the street,
but when you go in,
prison cells are singing
Soprano, alto, tenor and base;
in drums.
Song,
clear and focused,
has power thrice over.
Our voices are our drums now,
injustice recoils in fear.
Its feet dance no more.
Take our lives,
we are unceasing.
We live in our history,
the past is always here.
We add our own words:
*Uhuru wetu!
We sing and we dance,
Call Jos in Nigeria,
The Ogoni, Ken Saro Wiwa,
our freedom is theirs.
We stand for every pain also in Somalia.
And we are not tossing coins about Mauritania.
We remember slave masters from the east before the west.
We do try to be just.
Song sang South Africa to liberty,
long bleeding shadows touching
the equator to help our fourth liberation,
evening and morning and midday;
in and below the Kalahari.
The struggle is long.
Sahara, we all are.
Let justice and truth flower, flower.
We know to be free,
We know who we are.
We sing our vision.
Don’t look for our echo in the World Bank latest hits.
International Monetary Fund, IMF,
Or other organizations don’t’ sing tunes.
They are here for cool banking services.
Our sunrise is,
us breaking trade barriers.
Front lights shining on misty daybreaks,
on our mothers, sons and daughters selling
maize and beans so fast,
with their own hands,
in the international market.
Yes we can,
we can with
our sweet potato feet.
Yam head and twin intelligence,
own study and prophecy,
Philosophy made in Afrika.
Last updated July 14, 2015