We Shall Grow — Alozor Michael

There are no virile seeds

To grow on this fertile land.

No! No fertile land

To grow these virile seeds.

There is no voice

To echo this truth

Brewing in bleeding hearts.

Oh! This voices wastes

This voice, clear, resonant

Full of messages

Hollow, empty, void!

Broken tools and machineries

Dying, no, dead seeds

Are their gifts to us

For venturing into the moonlit night

When they massage their greed yet

Polluted water, contaminated food,

Gaseous wastes and acrid air

Are their gifts to us,

For daring to be brave

For daring to be bold

For daring to work our fields

Which for their wasteful parties

They’ve marked.

See! They’ve offered us another land

A land full of promises of prosperity

A land founded on milk

A land cast in honey

A fertile land

With no access road!

Our hands overflow with virile seeds

But all we have is

A land full of promises of prosperity

A land founded on gold

A land cast in diamond

A fertile land

With no access road!

We cannot complain

Our tongues are cut

And they’ve promised us deaf ears

Should we grow another tongue.

But another tongue

We shall grow

So they may grow deaf

And remain deaf to their doom

When it rehearses yet their dirge

Until they grow listening ears

To the truth echoing in our hearts

For the truth echoing in our hearts

Is virile enough seeds

To grow on our fertile lands!