Love abhors all wights.
But hatred has partitioned it.
Making the foundation shaky.
The love that engulfed it,
Has been replaced with a burning desire,
For detestation for one another.
1807 marked it's end.
2017 upheld it's resurgence.
When will Africa be free?
When will Africa stand on it's feet,
Free for racism and servitude?
Free from abhorrence for one another?
When will Mama Africa,
Stop the show of shame,
Exhibited at the Village square.
Making her a mockery to other villages.
That is not as pretty as she is,
Nor as rich as she is.
Is it the Ruby that adorned her waist?
Nor the Sapphire that graced her plum neck?
Or the oil wells that formed a trident circle,
At the back of her mansion?
Yet, Mama Africa is not satisfied,
But defied herself into Slavery.
Slavery!
Making her an object of ridicule.
And a shameless harlot.
When you finally regain your consciousness,
The damages you have done to your reputation,
Cannot be reversed.
Neither will the shame you've brought upon yourself,
Be cleansed with rites.
But the love you've denied your children and family,
Would haunt you to your grave!
©*Balogun Fatimah Oluwatosin 2017*

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