Dear Lord I see
white teeth gleaming
in smiling black faces
of mere children
carrying AK-47 sub-machine guns,
RPG rocket launchers
and landmines
and they are part of the Unita army
in neighbouring Angola
and the games they play
includes rape, killing and robbery
and while I drive by
they salute
before holding out their hands to beg
for another cigarette
and I wonder if anyone of them
has ever heard your name?
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem