The Dying Need of the Male Child in African Homes

Once, he was the rising sun,
The future’s hope, the family’s run,
Strong and brave, the lineage’s pride,
A guiding light, a steadfast guide.

But shadows fall on hopes so bright,
As centuries shift, and paths ignite,
The longing for a son’s embrace,
Fades slowly in ancestral space.

Traditions wane, and values shift,
The yearning's dying, slow and swift,
Yet, beneath the loss, still beats the heart,
A silent ache, a broken part.

For whether boy or girl, love remains,
In every soul, hope sustains,
Yet, in the call for future’s son,
The fading need, a somber one.