In a distant land
Where the seas are always in conflict
And trees are never in bloom
In sunny villages
With abandoned farmlands laid to waste
In small huts
Filled with bonny faces and thin frames
eyes glued to the fire-place waiting for the pot.
Still in this far away land
Sounds of the next generation echoes throughout the land
Loud tones,soft whispers, gentle shouts, clasped hands, movements....
In that distant land
where yam barns are left bare
And pounding mortars grow scarce
The tools of the diligent farmer
Seems to bring little harvest instead of a bumper.
Hunger has found a place to stay
The tenders one's are yet to forget it's name
Not only have they come to hear its fame
But have experienced in doses same
Help is yet to come their way..
In this distant land
I see a budding generation
Rising from the four cardinal points
with giant-sized heads on line necks and rotund bellies settled on tiny hips
The ringworms have done not a small job
leaving sore designs on their hard skulls
This distant land is filled with tender ones
With bare bonny legs covered by a thun-sliced pound of flesh
Dripping noses like wastes from the entrails of a bull.
In another distant land
You'll find them sitting on spread-out mats
with calabashes and pleading eyes
Hoping to get changes from the 'Highly'
With railway tracks on their cheeks
Having not known a wash nor a visitation of the comb
Flies make their bodies a bed of rest
Sun-fried faces speaks loud of woes and sufferings.. You could tell the rest.
This land filled with the next generation
Who have experienced peaces and wars
Cold and mist have become their foes and friends.
Parched,torn,dirty rags for covers on their light frames
The days keeps coming
Each holds unto a flicker of hope and keeps hoping
Waiting for a change yet uncertain when
When you come across the children from the distant world
Who have long been separated from love,care and affection by time and seasons
Abandoned shacks have become their mansions
Bridges have become their shelter against the evil lurking in corners at night
For the very life they live, they never bargained for
Think instead this way, WHAT IF IT WERE TO BE ME?
then you'll acknowledge that they are also a product of creation
And not without a divine destination
In your own small way, help them fulfill their earthly assignments
It begins with having a "Loving Heart"
Dedicated to the children on the streets of his who have known the sad faces of toil, lack,maltreatment and malnutrition
