That Her Children Would Listen

Her cry, hath thine ears not heard or wilt thou choose to ignore?
Her tears, hath thou not seen or need she shed more?
She weeps for her children, Not that they lay dead,
But of their choices and it’s consequent end,
That they have forgotten at what cost came their freedom,
The blood, the life which now to her children is a tale of boredom.

O for bravery, selfless courage of her first children,
There battles, not against themselves didst they fight,
Not for themselves or their gain did they bear the burden,
But for dawn’s promise of light did they endure the heavy night,
But for her freedom did they die,
Freedom for her children then, now and onwards was their cause.

About their suffering they stood not brave,
That she would at last be free from her oppressors they did rise,
For her pride to soar as the eagle , all they could they gave,
There very existence and being but for her future they paid it’s price.

And if even with their last blow her freedom was given,
She was to stand tall and proud,
For hers was a beauty unseen, the sun of morning risen,
Her people, men of the ground,
Make of her land, fields of green and plenty,
Dark as they may be, are a light of freedom to many who see,
The gems of nature, placed in her care,
Some as her neighbors others so rare.

O won’t you her children desist from your strife with thy brother,
See ye not why thou dost suffer?
Canst thou be as thy fore fathers, her children from whom came her first pride?
The adversary is no stranger to us, nay, he is none that we ought to hide,
The true source of our state of living is ourselves, her children of today,
Yes, you and I are the predator and the prey.
That we forget the sacrifice that her great freedom was founded on,
That we turn against each other for wealth, status all but timely possession,
That the great cause for freedom we lay aside,
For a time of luxury nothing but a vain joy ride.

O that we would see her grief, we could hear her cry,
For a long forgotten purpose, a free land that her first children surely did die,
Freedom from external power we did brave, but against our greed we are but still it’s slave,

O children of this mother land, canst thou see the hurt of thy selfish hand?
Let go of thy greed, thy personal gain should not be thy seed,
That a day when tribe, belief or opinion shalt not overcome thy responsibility to care,
Hold not back thy hand to rightfully save, help and share,
That which by nature or purpose, we receive or attain
Not only for your sake but for thy neighbor, the both to gain.
Children of one motherland, forget not the forefather’s blood,
Mingled in death, that we all could stand proud,
Proud to be a Zambian, Proud of this Land,
Not out of luck but from God’s  great Hand.