Am I Next
I see in my dream, the red flowing river,
Red not from its source, but the shed blood of nations,
From Africa my motherland to Europe.
I hear the sounds, so hard in my head,
Not of drums and tambourines but of guns and missiles
I see right beside me, the one I had hoped and longed to share a meal
lying in the red flowing river
Am I next? is she next? are they next?
How did we get to this point?
where humanity lost its purpose,
Children are raised to tell not how red our blood is in hospitals but on the streets?
instead of guitars for toys, they are taught how to handle a gun and know grenades!
Has mother nature forgotten that the groans of childbirth for all races, tribes, and religions are the same?
was it only existent in my dream?
Am I next?
Next in line for the hate, the cruelty, and death so callously spread amongst brothers, nations, tribes, and races?
Am I next in line for the increase you need in the flow of your red river?
I can only ask and wait.
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