From the ashes rose
Africa.
A phoenix of pure
Sunlight.
Its vast wings of
Antiquity,
Spread far across the continent;
A mother’s arms shielding its
Newborn
From an imperialist sun.
Its velvet and silky wings
Soar across the friendly and tender
African skies.
Its voice
Sing’s songs from fallen angels,
About the hidden fruits
They once tasted.
The hope of Africa one day returning,
On wings borrowed from
African’s sorrow.
