I the land, Speaks

Once, I was held sacred. Whole. Alive,

I cradled your fathers—

And their fathers before them.

I gave from my bounty—

Millet, yams, nuts, milk, and nectar 

With sorghum from my back,

They brewed pito to intoxicate their gods.

Their laughter echoing down my plains.

And in return, I received their care,

Their love—

And also, their dead.

Now, your greed threatens my very essence.

 

Trees and shrubs once danced on my back,

They dance no more. They’re gone.

Once they whispered to the winds at dawn,

Now only stumps and dust remain.

Ghosts of life, scorched by your greed.

Engines now hum where birds once sang,

Bulldozers raze where crops once sprang.

You traded roots for rubble, shade for shame.

 

They told you gold lies in my bosom—

So you stab me, again and again.

Looted my bowels and sold my bones.

Turning my rivers into toxic dreams.

My fields lie bare, my waters poisoned,

Fish float belly-up like broken promises.

And children drink poison for breakfast.

But still, your hand has not stayed.

You call this mining.

I call it suicide, murder, I say.

 

My back that once bore abundance

Now lies broken, bleeding, while

Your sons—backs bent, groaning—

Dig for coin deep in my belly.

Their dreams, traded for quick cash,

Their innocence, exploited for gain,

Their chastity, sold for glitter,

Pens dropped for pickaxes,

Books traded for headpans,

Schools stand silent, classrooms empty,

Whilst children gamble their tomorrows

For dust that gleam and vanish.

 

Where are your chiefs?

Who once stood as guardians of truth?

Their stools and skins, once symbols of wisdom

Now thrones of decadence,

Steeped in the colours of their betrayal.

Their pride, sold for a speck of glittering dust.

 

Where are your elders and priests,

Who once doused me with libation?

Now they hide in shadows, counting bribes.

Their shame, mastered by lust and liquor.

Their silence, louder than thunder.

 

Where are your leaders?

Smiling in suits, feigning blindness—

While I, the mother of life, am murdered daily.

 

Go on, feast on my entrails,

And let the rivers choke all life.

I am still the ground beneath your graves.

When the last tree falls,

When the last stream is poisoned,

Tears shall swallow your songs of greed.