Sunday, July 8, 2007


The monsoon rain did not come as expected
All the cattle died without water
Crops in the fields did not grow
There was nothing left to slaughter
No flour left to make daily bread
No strength in our arms to bury the dead
Our cries went up and were not heard
We laid in the baking sun while our vision blurred
The few who were left crawled to villages
Where nothing was found to eat
We continued to crawl as we scratched the earth
Blood ran from our cracked swollen feet
My will to live is great for one reason
To allow myself to be seen
So that the children might be saved
To close the gap between
Those whose eyes do not believe
The words upon a wall
Might my image make its appeal
Before I answer the call
For when the day is over and done
Might I not rise with the next sun
If any eyes gaze upon what is left
To envision that I am bereft
By no fault of my own or others
Take heed to the many mothers
To save the children by solemn grace
So that they may continue to run the race
Better days surely are ahead
Remember my plea although I am dead

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

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