WHO HEARS HER?

Who hears her?
Her loud cry cracks boulders.
She laments not, but mourns,
mourns for her live children
who have turned into carnibals.

Her face is full of sorrow,
down runs rivers of bitter water.
fountains of agony run
down her bossom.
Who hears her?

She daily screems for help,
no one comes to her rescue.
On an old wooden chair,
her arms and legs are tied
with a great rusty chain of old.

Deep scars all over.
Bruises that have turned into
deep wounds.
Who hears her?
Her heart is torn.

Who hears her?
Who hears mother Africa cry?
Who is to wipe away her tears?
Who is there to nurse her?
Who is to untie her?
Help! Oh beloved continent.