POEM – Mama Liberia’s Dirge @ Age 174

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By Samuel G. Dweh | Writer, Freelance Journalist, Author

+231 (0)886618906/776583266/samuelosophy@yahoo.com, samuelosophy1@gmail.com

I am oldest political Republic in Africa!

A long-time role model to other Nations in Africa

Today, July 26, 2021, is my 174th year

A day reserved for reflection on passed years

A reflection of handling of me

By Liberians inside and foreigners near me

On July 26, 1847 I was politically named

By exported freed African slaves on America’s aim

From my natural name—“Grain Coast”

I became the foreigners’ plunder court

Pulling from belly my iron ores

Which my natural-borns depend for their oats

Also shipping to their shippers my diamonds

So that my indigenous offspring be in “dire most”

I sighed an air of freedom when my own took over

I mean Tubman, Tolbert and Doe to turn me over

For me to be elegant like my mates the world over

But each Leader’s style tumbled me over

The “tumbled over” refers to my “ugly feature”

Lacking several infrastructures, hiding my future

Then, in 1991, I was plunged into a civil war

Which was a product of my politicians’ minds at war

My mates sent their children on peace mission

To sacrifice their lives—being part of the mission

Even though some had clandestine intension

Reflected in rapes, looting and mass destruction

When the missile and grenades soon became mute,

My war-related despondence left the mode mute

Charles, one of my fighting sons, was chosen

But I regularly became “wretched” on insecurity

Ellen, my child who initiated my fall, emerged

But couldn’t defeat corruption that kept me submerged

Then stepped in my footballing son—Weah

Whose leadership style causing my economic wears

Call me Africa’s oldest Independent Republic

In spite my having nothing much to show the public

My children can transform me to Mother Beauty

But not until their hearts for me are filled with pity

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