Our land, rich with sun and soil,
Holds the strength of generations,
Yet the winds grow hotter,
The rains delay their dance.
From the peaks of Kilimanjaro,
To the plains where the lions roam,
Our earth cries out,
Its heartbeat fading, slower each day.
We stand on the soil of our ancestors,
Guardians of rivers, forests, and fields,
But the rivers dry, the forests burn,
The fields yield less, with every passing year.
We, the children of this land,
Cannot turn away, cannot stay silent,
For the earth is our mother,
And her pain is ours to bear.
So rise, Africa, with the power of a thousand suns,
Speak with the voice of the ancient winds,
Let our actions be the rain that cools the earth,
Let our hands plant the seeds of tomorrow.
Together we fight, for the earth, for our home,
Against the heat that steals our future,
For the green that holds our dreams,
Africa, we rise.
From the collection, Whispers of The Soul