Drenched in Blood stained crimson,
Embellished in Gold plated armour,
Adorned in vibrant Green raffia,
I am none other than the Black star.

I am none other than mighty Senegambia,
A valiant warrior; Asantewaa of the Gold Coast.
The Ivory that is the horn of Africa,
A son of a land I’m proud, I boast.

Oh Mother Africa, have your offspring failed you?
Running off to America, in search of a dream …
… long turned nightmare.
Our forefathers who fought for our freedom,
Turn in their graves in disdain.
But our efforts, our efforts, they are not in vain.

Compton, Detroit, Kingston, Libreville.
Brothers are bound by their unending title,
Negro, Black, Coloured, African.
A struggle for identity crucially vital.

But I dream of an Africa,
One where we aren’t marred as charity cases,
But strong, resilient, happy faces.
One where we see ourselves as a unit, one people,
UBUNTU; I am because you are.

–  Nene Azu