An African Prayer of Lamentation in Confidence

God of our ancestors,

Things are falling apart in Africa, and we are no longer at ease; the evils which torment us are like an open sore.

Daily we walk upon the famished road to parched farmlands dying in the sun; our hunt for food is like striving for the wind; in vain we search for a grain of wheat in our empty granaries.

At sunset we walk the narrow path back to shadows of the night; on our bamboo beds we contemplate fragments of our broken dreams; we lack even the will to die.

God of our ancestors,

Hear the voice of Africa; heal the wound and tribal scars which defaced the image of our continent; lead us with compassion on our long walk to freedom.

Free us from evil that keeps us bound to violence; may our children live more than a few nights and days.

When our eyes are shut in death, may we never become carcass for hounds; bring us in safety into the house of the ancestors; where we may dwell in peace for two thousand seasons.

(Inspired by titles of African novels and adapted from A.E. Orobator, S.J., Theology Brewed in an African Pot, pp. 64-65)