I am sorry about the inconsistencies that plague my prayers, when I know it’s the only benefit I can offer, while you lay underneath the earthly layers, shirts and ties, preoccupied with social delusions and lies.
The daily grind constantly at war with the hands of time, but thoughts of you never stray to far from my mind, death may have eroded the physical bind, yet I am thankful that our paths had once aligned.
Everyday I grow older, and I would like to think that as the sunset’s each day I keep getting wiser, I watch my sons grow with a hint of sorrow, knowing that for them an atom of your love from time I cannot borrow.
The world may not be the same as you had left it, the evil ones out number the morally gifted, to deprive the already destitute is emphasised and insisted, and African babies are still being born, only for a few months later, they perish like they never existed.
They say it’s the way of man, and I am naïve if I am unable to understand, the transformation of my being is the plan, am I to accept that prosperity and corruption go hand in hand.
I dream of one day being one of the many bright rays of Africa, building my continent from ashes to splendour, some of my kind laugh and say that the picture you paint is nothing more then a mind full wonder, they say you dream too big and that same dream will take you under.
If I was only to plant but a single tree, to shade from the heat a single soul whoever they might be, or to place a single foundation to inspire another to see value in his nation, then that could no longer be called dreaming, as like me, it would be alive and breathing.
I often question within me, how a person could consider themselves a separate entity, forever wishing to be disconnected from his soil’s gravity, for freedom is the key to prosperity, and where else on this earth can I truly feel free then the land that was used to create me.
Sadly you past away without our lands knowing peace, for life is nothing more then a short undated lease, in my heart I have kindled a fire, its flames will replenish my Africa, my Somalia.
There are plenty like me, of this I am certain, no genuine person on his heritage pull the blind and draw the curtain, if you call that piece of soil your land then please with me raise your right hand.
A pledge that Africa will be reborn, through me and the souls I touch, in the heart and mind the determination is such; I am to be the missing link, we can achieve, it only takes one to think, on the pages of history my blood and sweat shall be the never drying ink.
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