Look up to the mountain
From whence comes our illusion
A vivid illusion of freedom
A top the mountain
They planted our shame
At full mast, it flys our pain

On the slopes of the mountain
We buried our pain
Our heroes rest, not in peace
They turn in their graves
When we wail in pain
Our tears water their graves
Mashujaa blood cries freedom
Wounded souls, wandering the plains

Look up to the mountain
The birth place of our nation
The birthplace of our pain
The gods of our ancestors
Call the mountain home
But fraudsters in her majesty’s name
Stole the name of the mountain
And hijacked the dream of freedom
They put a blemish in the place
The gods of our ancestors call home

For a few coins
They sold our home
That cost our heroes’ martyrdom
Handed over keys to the bedroom
With fresh linen of betrayal
They made the bed of oppression
For the grand molestation
Rape and denial
Of our rights and freedoms

Listen, to the thunderous roars
As we call them mashujaa
Bandits and predators
But we hail them as royal
Not a bone in them is loyal
Yet we call them mashujaa
Highway men
Bounty hunters of progress
We call them mashujaa

Thieves of thunder
From the lightning
Of the real mashujaa
Who paid the price
For our dignity
For our peace
For a place
At the humanity conference
They are the real mashujaa
Brave of the brave
Yet theirs
Are unmarked graves

Their blood still cries freedom!

For as long as we cry
Their blood will cry
For as long the sellouts oppress us
The spirit of mashujaa remain restless
In the wind whistles
Sounding loud whispers
Saying cry, shujaa cry!

#Carolsinsights
#ThatAfricanGirlPoetry

©️ C Akui 2020/10/21

Image c/- Google for illustration only