Terror and war rumble across Africa
Carrying with them whispers of death
Whispers that cook fear and loss
Whispers across Africa
Whispers warning the last child
To spare the life that brought it fourth
To bring down the weighing weapon
That is carried with agony
Whispers from mothers
Whispers from fathers
Whispers from the stranger
Whispers that Africa be calm
Loud whispers are everywhere
Pleading with the cruel hands
That authorize that we be killed
Dark faces that siphon our blood
Masters who adore themselves
They receive dangerous whispers
Send forth from dying Africans
Whispers that are carrying olive oil
Fearful whispers that speak not
Tearful whispers that cry not
Whispers across Africa
Whispers across the continent
I see my hand as the most stubborn part of my body, for sometimes it writes what my heart doesn't desire
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