Broken
into my church, so sacred, so old, the historical mosque with stories untold.
Broken is my land, once sovereign and free,
Now soaked in my bleeding heart with deepest agony.
Broken
Is my roof, my shelter, my pride,
My dignity torn, with nowhere to hide.
Broken is my soul, my memory, defiled,
My cherished life, stolen and wild.
Broken
my friendships, my street, my home,
A shadowed world where I now roam.
Broken
Is the truth that was once pursued,
Justice is far and silent, progress is subdued.
Divided is my family, scattered apart,
Ugly the politics that pierced through my heart.
Broken
the promise, once strong and bright,
Broken is my earth, robbed in plain sight.
Stolen the minerals, almost day after day,
No one to stop it, no strength to stay.
Broken
the pact signed in Pretoria’s air,
By the hands of the ones who never played fair.
Known as Ethiopia, now carved with lies,
Where Genocide cloaked in political guise.
Broken
the unity, one voice, one dream,
That echoed with power, a radiant beam.
Where is it now? Will it return?
Will hope reignite or will it still burn?
Would it come back, would justice be spoken?
Or is it forever shattered would it remain broken?
A feeling of broken hearted Tigray💔
Jerusalem Barnabas 29th July 2025