POETRY

Every moment we sing a song,

That isn’t composed.

But a song that’s full of mourning,

A mourning that has a flow of moans.

We cry every moment,

But none to wipe our tears,

Tears that contains worries and fears.

We are not living with ambition,

But visions of seeing dead bodies,

And creating fear in our lives,

Coz every time we lost a relative.

We couldn’t stand,

And shake our hand,

Because of the pool of blood.

That is surrounding our land.

Sounds of guns and bombs,

Has become our alarm;

The alarm that rings every moment.

That sunsets and sunrises.

We’re tired of running with dead blood bodies,

But no way to escape it, coz this is our destination!

….

(Self-translation from KISWAHILI)

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