It's raining and I couldn't help but think of the children in the bush kidnapped by bandits.
As a mother of two children, I can't begin to imagine the hunger, cold, trauma, exposure to crawling objects, pains these children are facing.ππππππππππ
What kind of country is this.ππ
So much distressing news in this country.
It breaks my heart as a mother to look at the pictures of those kidnapped children.ππππ
The mental trauma of those children might be irreversible.
Oh Jah! Please come to their aidπ
It's raining and I couldn't help but think of the children in the bush kidnapped by bandits.
As a mother of two children, I can't begin to imagine the hunger, cold, trauma, exposure to crawling objects, pains these children are facing.ππππππππππ
What kind of country is this.ππ
So much distressing news in this country.
It breaks my heart as a mother to look at the pictures of those kidnapped children.ππππ
The mental trauma of those children might be irreversible.
Oh Jah! Please come to their aidπ
Which Way Should We Run, Home Country?
Which way should we run, home country?
Grave or lake?
Now that the father of this home is taciturn,
no one dares speak
for fear of being indicted
as speech out of turn.
The mother of this home
is sating her children with hemlock.
Fewer children,
less accountability after all.
Our in-laws, long smothered,
now mind only their businesses.
God save us
from this vicious bitch that sits on her puppy
till death.
Which way should we run, home country?
Death or exile?
Burn or be burned?
The legs may run anywhere,
but the head and heart knows
where it truly belongs.
Here there is no limbo,
no middle ground.
It is here or there.
You said βbaby steps.β
But this is no purgatory.
This is hell.
Which way, Father?
Trap or thirst,
or must we learn
the bitter craft
of dying at home
before our time?
No one leaves home except the house is on fire
And yeah, thereβs fire on this mountain
And to think home government house is even
on the mountain.
Alas! We canβt even go tell it to the mountain
When the mountain residents are feasting on patriotic blood.
And to you pedestrians, No nation is sitting back without hitting the streets.
If hunger and insecurity canβt push us,
I wonder what could.
You donβt shake someone in a pleasant dream awake;
Unless the house is on fire.
There might be nowhere else to go.
βthevictormarcus
#Keeppoetryalive
@jacksoninem, @paulobijiofor, @Olami_deeEbony