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A dying man in Somalia (A poem)

A Dying Man In Somalia

The stick-like drying bones of my little children
Haunt the tom-tom pulse of my heart.
Their electric bulb-like eyes drawn out by starvation’s brethren
Mock our nation badly torn apartBy hunger endorsed by pitiless drought
As hope melts in lightning speed, death record boards increase.
Why are we let to perish in this hell sprout
As rain’s fury accelerate in degrees?

These silently emitting screams of my dying kids
Slowly kill me before my awaiting death.
Can I hold on with these lashes of starvation’s sticks
As prostration gently lures me to earth?

These well nourished vultures above my thatch
Posing with pride like kings in regalia,
Hopefully await my remains as they perch.
I am a dying man in Somalia

By Joseph Osita

 

About Amaka

I am a graduate of English and literature, a great listener and a gifted life coach. I am not afraid to be bluntly honest.

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