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THE BLOOD OF MY FATHERS SON

Written by Shawa Ter

THE BLOOD OF MY FATHERS SON

With a rich father yet I am wretched,

With his wings yet I am cursed to the ground,                     

With his food and natural resources yet I am hungry,

With his beauty yet I am detested.

With and unbreakable spirit I set sail,

Like the Spartans I fight the battles of life,

My determination makes me breath under water,

Motivated by father’s failure, I strive to make mother proud.

Hated for my strength,

Despised for my zeal,

Stoned with rejection at every corner,

Broken into thousand pieces.

Father, I can’t breath, 

Where are you mother? Save me father,

Come united, Come unbroken ,

Come charging to my rescue like the Dothrakis’.

Oh, my giant has been enslaved by greed,

My warriors broken with the rod of golden coins,

He turns his eyes away while I am being murdered,

And with a satisfactory smile he looks toward the Trojan gifts of my murderers.

Oh dear father,

Ubuntu Africa, Wazobia Nigeria,

How great will I be with the blessings of my father?

How limitless with the protection of my mother land?…

                                                                                                                     Ageh Michael kumaor

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About the author

Shawa Ter

Award winning blogger
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