Shout it out loud,
When men make you feel nothing,
So the infant was told,
In the womb that birthed him,
With groaning of an innocent,
The child born in doom place,
Distinct to fail at welfare.
Darkness in Egypt,
Light in Goshen,
What are they proud about?
Now that equity is sold to the wealthy,
And discrimination on the path of the weak,
Call them out now,
For they are accountable,
Especially to the poor.
They wish they could stop them,
But if wishes were horses,
Beggars would ride,
Crumbs are downtrodden,
So the weak would become weaker,
Without a voice of agitation,
Clamour for peace have failed.
Need not wonder,
Wander like jobless men,
Who are qualified but do not have links,
To the high and mighty,
The criterion to get the jobs,
For able bodied men available,
Passed as destitutes in their own lands.
What more do they have,
If not the breath of life,
Bread and water restricted,
While they share the loot in our presence,
Leaving to bed on empty stomach,
Hear their cries from homes afar,
With door ajar waiting to be taken.
Run down the valley,
Filled with water and deadly crabs,
So they painted it in our faces,
That we may stay away from the wealth,
Our commonwealth,
With fetters of thorns,
And living in rags,
In a wardrobe filled with robes.
Dedicated to all nationals who are suffering destitution in the midst of plenty in their nations of birth.
First published Here