THE CRYING KING (POEM)

Hold my hand,he says,
and walk down the setting sun,
as i speak these words looking into your eyes,
perhaps you will understand, oh
You will understand what it means to be a Queen, an African Queen.

What has become of our African Queens?He cried....
Our mothers,our sisters,our wives..
Fake hair,Fake skins,Fake minds,Fake hearts....
A queen denied her roots, A queen is no longer an African queen.
Cries the King...an African King.

A queen is made,by her acts,by the legacy of her fathers,
The way she dresses,the way she speaks....
A queen is humble but strong,
A queen is loyal and determined,
A queen is made for a King.

A queen knows what she wants,she embrasses her roots and nature,
A queen defends her throne with intelligence,
A queen is not a queen until she knows so,
I want my African ladies to know,they are Queens....says the King,an African King.

Julieth Msoffe