A Little Girl Named Marie
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I
There is a mud brick house
with roof of palm fronds and thatch -
behold a little girl named Marie
in possession of my farthest dispatch.
My picture on its pale mud wall
above her barest earth floor bedding.
I hope one day her crying tears
will be tears of great joy shedding
II
On darkest Africa’s west coast
a small Temne village in Sierra Leone,
gathering windblown palm nuts
or fetching water to carry back home.
Grandmother inside making oil
and villagers irrigating planted plots,
Marie and her busy little friends
are chasing the birds from the crops
III
The Port Loko District foothills
in the Kalamera Development Project,
home of tribesmen shepherds
and witch-doctors to malady correct.
From day to day her people lead
alas a subsistence life in every breath.
Might Marie and her family live
till next harvest to again cheat death
IV
I lie awake in my bed at night
with my own misfortune as my curse -
it is then I think of you, Marie,
and am reminded whose plight is worse.
God bless you my sponsored child
and cheerful speak your native tongue,
the greatest gift you give to me
that you grow to be your tribe among
Written: September 1996
Copyright © Keith D Trestrail | Year Posted 2022
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