Song Of The Vulnerable. Poem by Bamukunda Hillary

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Born with a silver fish in his Mouth
He looks on his jigger not twitter
Thinking about today without tomorrow
The rain droplet from the leaking roof quenches his thirst
The daily hope makes him hunger free.
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His bare feet, a native to the bare ground
His clothes, a gift from running water
And his house, a mudded cave whose roof will soon turn to his tombstone.
The wife, a standing ovation for ovulation
And kids a buffet of the Alien and vampire World
The World that feeds on his sweat without returns
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As he rethinks the non existent future
His palm supports his cheeks
He blames everyone for his state
Prayer should loose its way to him
But will it yield any fruit?
Old age has already caught up with him
And his death can only check on the population 🔫
He isn't scared.
For he meets death every day