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19 A Mother’s Tears And now from this womb This dark womb of mine My seeds all about Scattered and tossed Like dirt in a storm Of selfishness Our nightmare of tribal power Our Odyssey of neo-colonial strategy And over and over I am raped By the tides of a strange rhythm My sons and daughters Stand and helplessly watch Condemned to their propagandaed plight Of ineptitude. In strange lands, yet, My blood excels But my maternal dues To strange bosoms are accorded And here I stand Lamenting, My tears my maternal breasts bathing. When children, Shall enough be enough And you all in reconciliation Like the fingers of one hand stand Your differences your wealth instead, Determined against our detractors? It were better like the bee To sting and be killed Rather than thy sting In shame and servitude adorn. Why must we wait for others 20 Our success to tell? Is not the stomach Its own time-keeper? ...

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