Nation Called Childless

Somewhere, Under a savage sun, A sterile plane sleeps In sad spoil, the storms Recoil in stiff silence As sand serpents sweat To non-existence. The explorer’s lens Can not collect its far shores, Where, he’s left to suspect, A brimming river flows. Not a tool can tell His escape. No utensil to Turn his sick spirits well. The skies are broken, Pray heaven cries rain. Inflamed is the breast that nursed us all The land of ancestor is in turmoil. Stoop to your bruised knees pilgrim For your prayer is your only telegram!