Mike Ebogha

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Tears Of The African Child

Trees stand with the shelter of the sweet atmosphere,
birds and duck groom under the comfort of thier nest.
Chickens hide beneath the sweet warmth of thier mother.
But the african child lay, with cold and termite to cover and sing his lullaby.
An odd of the rest.
Tears of the african child.

The heavens bless the land with drops of life in crystal.
Some nocturnals scurry to hide from these stones of blessings.
For they know the time and wishes like crystals.
But the african child floats in the ignorance of innocence.
A victim of time and lack.
Tears of the african child.

The battle of brains began, with little or no echoes in the wild.
Predators hunt and play with thier prey.
Drums cry in excitement...Predators glide with thier tide.
Pity.The african child learns.
A victim of phase with time so minimal.
They, the tears of the african child.

The wind blow,
the thunder bolts.
A change in the face of the gracious sky.
Freedom and wisdom restricted.
Men flew with ores, defied gravity.
A questioning 'Y', a resounding 'I'.
Civilization..The african child gazes but bewildered.
They all, the tears of the african child.

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