by Ademola Adejumo

Created on: July 29, 2008

My black mother thank you,
mother of the righteous
I thank you,you held me
with your motherly hands
when I was oppressed.

I saw you in my dream and
you spoke to my head in tongues,
and healed my wound,thank you,
if it was not you

I would have died,when my
friend hammered me on my head
with her hammer.

Restores me when wandering,
redeems when oppressed,mother
tell me,this thunder that growled
and growled so strong in its

wrath,was it angry with us?
the ground that swallowed men
was it not a warning?the rain

that turned into into a sea-like
flood,was it not enough for us
to repent?the young men and women
that are dying of Aids,Is God angry
with us?

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