Cries of our children,
Echoing through the burning ears of our “deaf” leaders.
The shrieks of anguish, as lives are lost,
As we continually pay for the oversight of those before us.
Through the fog of sighs and seas of sorrow,
I see the change beyond the horizon,
The rivers flowing with milk and honey,
The merrymakers coming to life,
As markets overflow with bounty, and songs of praise ascend to the Most High. “O Lord,” I cry, as this vision escapes my mind,
“prepare fellow Africans for this, new, life in our nations,
Lest we dwell on what happened,
And not on the change that is yet to come.”