I weep for my Country

I weep for my country across the sea,

Where sunlight crowns each baobab tree,

But shadows stretch through hungry towns,

And promise wears a borrowed frown.

From distant lands I watch her bleed,

With fractured hope and aching need.

My heart is there, my feet are here—

A patriot trapped in hemisphere.

I send what little I can spare,

Folded in prayer, wrapped in care,

But copper coins in rivers wide

Can’t turn corruption’s rising tide.

She’s rich in soil, in soul, in song,

But ruled by hands that steer her wrong.

Her wounds are deep, her burdens vast,

With centuries stitched to her past.

The children beg beneath the gate,

The scholars flee, the dreamers wait.

I build my life in foreign light,

But every gain feels not quite right.

I speak her name in crowded rooms,

Her stories wrapped in subtle gloom.

They ask me, "Why not just let go?"

But roots run deeper than they know.

O motherland, your cry is mine—

Each loss, each lie, each shattered line.

Yet I, in exile, small and torn,

Can only mourn the land I mourn.

My dollar fights, my voice is loud,

But cannot part the poison cloud.

I long to help, to heal, to stay,

Yet helplessly I drift away.

Still, I believe a dawn may rise—

Beyond the greed, beneath the lies.

A day when truth and justice reign,

And joy returns with falling rain.

Until that hour, I send my love,

My weary prayers to skies above—

For though my hand can’t mend the seam,

I will not wake without her dream.