Throne of Thorns

(By Alfred M. Jackson)

They rose with songs of freedom’s flame,
Their tongues were honey, their hearts proclaimed —
“Justice shall reign, the chains shall fall,”
But power’s whisper soon betrayed it all.

The flag still waves — Yet stained with cries,
Of sons and daughters, dreams that died.
The streets remember, the dust still bleeds,
Where soldiers trampled the people’s pleas.

Once brothers, now guards of fear,
They load their guns, their conscience seared.
Orders descend from marble halls,
And liberty fades in tear gas calls.

For every chant, a baton swings,
For every truth, a bullet sings.
The courts are hushed, the press confined,
The grave becomes the ballot line.

Oh Africa — cradle of kings,
Why do your children fear your wings?
The drums of freedom beat in vain,
While rulers feast on the people’s pain.

Thrones of thorns, built high and proud,
On bones of hope beneath a shroud.
But time shall judge — as all must bow,
No crown endures — only truth, won't bow.

Insightful View

“Throne of Thorns” is a haunting portrayal of Africa’s political tragedy — a lament for nations whose dreams of freedom have been stained by blood and betrayal. The poem exposes the cruel irony of liberation heroes who become oppressors, silencing the very voices that once lifted them to power. Yet beneath the sorrow, it carries a quiet prophecy: that truth and justice, though buried under fear and tyranny, will one day rise and reclaim the land.