They stole our power
Keeping us under the tip of guns
They raped our wives
Throwing coins in their faces
They murdered our brothers
Putting swords at their sides

The foreheads with beads of sweat
Are not the ones who stand up
At gala dinner evenings.
Eyes that have bled
Are not the ones admiring the dancers.
The mouths which long ago had predicted
Are not the ones being filled today.
The voice that was heard long ago
From deep within an upright soul
Touching noble and just hearts
Galvanizing men, women and youth
This voice so soothing and rich has stopped
And Africa is crying.
 

USA, May 16, 2001
Edoh K. Ben
(My Country of others)

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