http://www.savethechildren.org.uk/en/somalia.htm
http://www.supportunicef.org/site/pp.asp?c=9fLEJSOALpE&b=7542627
http://www.redcross.org.uk/
Cry babies loud in faint infant voice,
Not heard so loud, so so loud
The mother's ears can no longer hear
The eyes that see, is set in trance
Where mobs of wombs are reduced
To pain of destitute
Walking empty with diminishing hope
Why has mother Africa forsaken me
Trauma sits as the permanent marker
Let the rebel find other roads to chant on
Play macho on another's patch, not mine
Food is our saving grace
Aqua hungs as the sight of life
And for me, the author that be,
An oath I make, I swear an oath
I will never leave another tap running waste
Ever again, never like before, in baths
Now I know it's true value, to gain
What became of the brothers
The fathers, the husbands, honour
Who seek respect holding guns and religion
With no room in hands held out,
For the value of life
Is this not said to be the land of beginnings, Riches , green oh so much to give
How did revelations take hold of so many
I will gladly accept what Babylon has to offer
With open hands, please do give, for I am desperate
While my child dies in my hands, I am helpless
Watching hyenas laugh out loud on approach
Babylon I beg of you to be my saving grace
While Zion refuse to heed to common sense
This poem is my entrance to the final One Shot Sunday at One Stop Poetry and
a mob of wombs...wow that is striking imagery...cant imagine how much water we waste while some go without...
ReplyDeleteGreat deal of conviction in your work; made more personal through your video. I admire that you use your blog and poetry to generate greater awareness for those in need. It's been a pleasure posting alongside you, Kodjo.
ReplyDeleteIn a sense, Kodjo, we all sit by the waters of Babylon, yearning for Zion. It's such a precious thing, water is, and those of us in developed countries take it totally for granted. Your poem reminds us how we should be thankful, and points to what we should be doing to help others.
ReplyDeleteWhat became of the brothers
ReplyDeleteThe fathers, the husbands, honour
Who seek respect holding guns and religion
With no room in hands held out, for the value of life
Hearts locked in inpenetrable cages are terrifying. Thank you for sharing.
While my child dies in my hands, I am helpless
ReplyDeleteWatching hyenas laugh out loud on approach
Babylon I beg of you to be my saving grace
While Zion refuse to heed to common sense
As a mother, this was powerful...
Amazing imagery and stunningly dark. :)
ReplyDeleteI loved hearing you recite it. It's much more alive and powerful. What a powerful and moving poem!
ReplyDeleteamazing.
ReplyDeletejoin us tonight.
What became of the brothers
ReplyDeleteThe fathers, the husbands, honour
Who seek respect holding guns and religion
With no room in hands held out, for the value of life
From one to the other...
While my child dies in my hands, I am helpless
Watching hyenas laugh out loud on approach
Babylon I beg of you to be my saving grace
Such a profound piece... powerful, disturbing.
Both haunting and thought provoking, I adore both the opening and ending stanzas. Wow. Thanks for the powerful punch ending to a quiet weekend night!
ReplyDeletecreative and beautiful.
ReplyDeleteYes!
ReplyDelete