I yearn for the land of my ancestors
The land I never saw
The land of camels, poets and beachy white sand
Ruined by gun shots and bullets
War and crime
My land is in pieces
Shall we not cry?
Famine beyond every horizon
They say blood is thicker than water
But still my people suffer
To the cries of lost children and heartbroken mothers
To the sorrows of jobless men with no food to put on the table
To the youth engulfed in a land that seems to have no prospects
We became desensitised
If not us to pick up our country then who?
O diaspora rise
“I’ll go when it gets better, when the country is more stable” they lie
Comfort and leisure is what they seek
But never did a nation become great without its due sacrifice
No mother no father were spared
When you were spat across the ocean
A better life they sought only to be stuck in an ajanabi’s land
For Somalia they cry
But you and I?
Not a backward glance.
Born and bred
Why should I care, right?
For the country I’ve never known
And another to never call home
Speaking a strangers tongue about to forget my own
Neither here nor there
For Somalia I yearn