From Somalia I weep


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In the long rolls of them
bundles of mal-nourished souls
cries of women heard all over
whistles of nature not heard
nature withering in gloom

Where without plains
and no rains to fall
the land looks dried
plants growing not
all seeming a cursed desert

Beautiful people
wonderful endowments
but happiness is missing
pains cultivated on our hearts
with no hopes to guarantee

Is it that you don’t care
or feel the plights of the people?
many wounded souls not healed
peace pipe not blown on this nation
where will the fate of we be?

The Village Thinker © 2014

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