Born In The Slum Poem by Sunday Champion

It is a misery I can't unfold
Of all seasons.......
Why was I born during the dry season,
When all things had crumbled?
Why was I born at the age of depression?
Why was I born in the slum?
Why was i born at the age of war?
Why was I born at the age of penury?
Why was I born at the age of a dark cloud,
when light was invisible?
Why?
Who will I ask?
Behold! The cloud is silent to my questions
Why was I not born in a comfort season?
when the green pasture sprint forth
to make a beautiful city...

It was a season of despise 
A season of shame
It was a season when all had crumbled
A season when there was nothing to eat,
then you've to sit like a watching dog at the feet of Neighbors 
It was a season where hardness became a name
Known to be the the poorest
A season when there was no light under the roof
A season that cause the wind to blow,
in which all was lost

What shall we say?
That I was an evil child
that brought nothing but sorry?
Or fate was not fair to me?
Or I was born at a wrong season?

This is the misery!
Though I was born at dry season
But dryness was't born in me;
I was born at the age of depression 
But depression wasn't born in me,
I was born in the slum at an unknown hour of the day
But slum was never born in me
I was born in penury
But penury wasn't born in me
I discover that yesterday was my past
In my past lies my mine
In my mine lies my gold
Though the fire was hot,
But it burns through me and I became a pure shining   

                                   CHAMPION