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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required As the Bus with a sight, rumbled along, Its weary cargo slumped, for the journey was long. Babies in agony clung to wretched mothers Oblivious they are without fathers, Their only concern, to suck and be patted By mothers who in gloom look emaciated. With melancholy gnawing at me by such a sight My eyes let the tears flow out of pity and fright. A gentle nudge and a wrinkled face, Was enough to build a case "Ma pikin" said the old woman, "why you di cry?" With a sight, out of the window I looked up at the sky. I weep for the Wazizi who resides in mystery; I weep for the burnt villages residing in misery For the men brought low by cartridges, For the school kids in Kumba and its villages, Not batting an eye for the refugees in Nigeria Who, far from home, die of thirst and malaria. Oh grandma, don't ask me why I weep For leaving in fright, my own life does creep, For though I brood over the kids of Ngarbuh My kith and kin still flee from Oku. Just to starve under bridges in Douala And sell their bodies in beer parlours in Akwa. Why wouldn't I, for my brethren, weep When under the sun, we are butchered like sheep, Incarceration for the purpose of extortion Fuses with degradation and extermination, Has given birth to fear and consternation Oh!! My once sweet nation. Oh Grandma, please permit me weep For even now fleeing, the road is still steep. From behind and In front, danger looms And for want of food, babies fed on mushrooms. Screeching tires, spoke of our journeys end And into uncertainty, we embarked, for which our lives depend. ©Temajung Michael T.
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