When you dig a whole,
You either plant in it
Or cover it.

When night calls on you,
You either sleep
Or keep wake.

When the night
Births a new day,
You either work
Or lazy around
Like a Koala.

The lion is not always the predator;
It becomes the prey.
The voice of the people
Is far louder than
The voice of a thousand guns.

Our land has no fear
For anything red
It has drunk enough.
It also knows that its green
Has become yellowish,
Too early for her age
But what can we do
As our only hope—
The star—
Is no more black,
But white;
No more in the sky
But below the earth,
Buried alive;
Buried without mourning?

Bleeding Nation

Edem (Fodeka) Kusorgbor


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