Blog Archives

Africa

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

I hear the cry of Africa,

See her saddened plight —

Lackluster eyes, no hope or dreams,

Watch day and night.

 

Listless resignation,

Men gaze o’er vast parched plains,

Useless to plant in dried-out earth,

Waiting for blessed rains.

 

People far past anguish,

No more tears to shed,

No food, no clothes,

Hard earth for a bed.

 

Hunger pains diminished,

No longer feeling pain,

Too little food, too late,

And no one to blame.

 

I hear the cries of Africa,

Mourning on the winds,

In wake of death,

Starving hands reach quietly for their friends.

 

Haunting face of children

As hunger stalks this land.

No quarter given, and death lurks

For both beast and man.

 

Women stand bewildered,

Eying their helpless brood,

Wasting away, to laugh no more

For simple lack of food.

 

I hear the cry of Africa,

Wafting o’er the dry blasted sand,

People of proud heritage,

But what future in this drought-stricken land?

Together At Last

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

We’ve traveled many miles,

Both you and I,

Always searching

For when and why.

 

Our pathways meandered

In different directions,

Overcoming many obstacles,

Mixed with objections.

 

Dark clouds and emotions

Fulfilled our days,

As we struggled along

Our own separate ways.

 

The hunger never died,

Instead it actually grew,

Propelling us forward

As life turned its screw.

 

Let others hoot and moan

Their pitiful dirge,

Because, by mere chance,

Our pathways did merge.

 

Together we stand

As a powerful shield,

Radiating sunshine’s rays

Which we both wield.

 

What’s mine is yours;

What’s yours is mine.

We know “who” we are;

Let the others mark time.

 

Let’s not say forever,

Who can fathom that deep?

Today is enough…

Forever ours to keep.

The Path

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

A son of the dirt since my birth,

I look back without rancor or mirth,

And — I remember.

 

Polished words did not pass my lips,

Nor fine clothes touch my fingertips,

And — I remember.

 

Without inheritance in the land,

Through struggles and hunger, I grew into a man,

And  — I remember.

 

Beaten but never bowed,

In the School of Hard Knocks I was endowed,

And — I remember.

 

Wealth and power were never my goal.

I wanted water for thirst, food for my soul,

And — it happened.

 

No longer hungry or thirsty, I’m fed and gird.

I’m finding the answers, written in the Word,

And — I won’t forget.

 

I’ve found the path that’ll take me home,

And I’ll go in peace, remembering,

As I say, “Shalom!”

 

%d bloggers like this: