Helpless not Lifeless

Under the Orji tree,
we lay helpless but not lifeless,
We peer into tomorrow with hope,
Though we lay with our stomachs down
without shaking, we are still alive.

Laugh not at our suffering and pain,
for we can see the brighter day.
A living dog is better than a dead lion;
we are still alive to answer our names,
we are still alive to carry our crosses.

Bury not our heads before time,
we are the trees that make the forest;
cut us down and we’ll resurrect.
Today in prison, tomorrow in palace;
sometimes we row with the eminent.

We sing sun songs with white horn,
Whistling whistles accompanies our joy.
Let not your sight be seized by the sun,
for we are still alive even in the grave of life.

Helpless not lifeless; homeless not hopeless,
Blood also run races in our veins.
The tears that disgrace our eyes
is not the death of our lives,
Our voices still sound sonorous and soulful,
Our eyes still see sites and are sight-full,
Our ears still hears the victory songs.

Call your youthful souls back home,
Gather the coffins you've made,
for illusions and abandoned hopes.
We are lilies of the valleys and the stars in the skies,
though helpless; we're not hopeless.

Though homeless,
we shall find homes for our goals.
Even when our bodies are dead,
our hearts lives on.
Truly we are helpless,
but we are surely not hopeless.