Mama Africa

My mother was raped before I was born
And I am a product of that sin…
See in her ignorance she was robbed of her strength, her offspring
And they took her sons in chains, and tainted her daughters blood
A picture not too different from those the hood paints today…
And she tells me…we were strong…as strong as we are today…only we don’t know it!

See now her sons are hard… not because of their strength but they forgot how they used to smile while they were with her…
They have forgotten how they held hands as they walk roads and they loved each other purely…
They do not remember that in them lies honor of Kings and Queens, they were royalty
So now her sons tote guns and fain hard because they don’t know who they are…
Trying to remember their strength…they are hard because they had to be…
They live in worlds now that have erased their ties to their Mother…
Taught now that they come from slaves, that’s where they originate, but no one told them that their mother bore kings…
And so our royals live as peasants in distant lands…unaware.

And she cries to her sons, is this what they died for…
Those whom were made slaves, my children..
Is this what their lives and their blood was spent for…

And she watches as her sons fill Ghettos countries wide
Embrace the title “Nigga” with pride
Taint their sister’s blood with AIDS
And murder one another to win acclaim
She watches…
As her sons leave their sons, fatherless
And their women to fend for themselves
Become slaves again for material wealth
And find home to be the insides of jails

I can her crying..

Is this what they died for…
Is this what their lives and blood was spent for…