Mama don't cry!

In the hot heat of the deserted savannah, A thin cry pierces the deafening silence As a bereaved mother weeps for her only son, Behold Mama’s cry for her beloved children With her blessings we departed long ago, Making heartfelt promises of a glorious return But like prodigal sons, we have long forgotten, Disregarding the womb that birthed the dreams we followed We have left her desolate, her heart weary with expectations She calls out to the corners of the earth, crying ‘When will I see the sons of my womb?’ Her wounded heart beckons to the whirlwind, junub ‘Will my daughters ever rest on these breasts that nurtured them?!’ But all she hears is silence – for no one knows None can tell her, and her tears remain her song Over clear blue seas and the highest of hills her cry has travelled Sons and daughters of South sudan, lend a ear to your mother’s plea Mend her roof as well as her heart bring home the wealth you promised that she may eat,