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O desperate soul
O' desperate soul, bereft of freedom's song,
With fingertips bound by a turmoil's throng.
Where hope is lost, as shadows creep and trill
With dread and longing, beneath each waning hill.
How can one rest, when solace wanes and stales,
Dragging solitude to our souls, a feeling that prevails
And if you must dare to tag, valor is boldest a path,
Yet we gather solace in tears of our fears and wrath
Beyond the shadows and the gloom of the night,
There future is bright if our eyes dares toward the light.
Though doubt, a monstrous hill as lingering throng,
Betrays all hopes, and so flails our freedom’s song
Copyright 2023
Copyright ©
Nash Maramba
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