Children Of Somalia (Hear Their Sos) Poem by Bernedita Rosinha Pinto

My child, my child, she weeps
how could I feed you
when hungry was my own self?
how could I leave you to die
when my own life was ebbing?
I am more than a drought,
I am not that dry earth
I have given you birth
but now, like the cracks on the ground
my own heart has many deep cracks
as I see so you starving to death.
I am myself hungry, thirsty, dizzy,
I got weary holding you;
I got heart broken
that I could not feed you
and that you had to die slowly
in my very own arms
where I held you
when you were just born;
I had placed you in my lap
and promised to love you,
to take care of you
till you grew up
but now even my tears have vanished
looking at so many children die;
and if that was to be your fate, too
how could I prevent it or change it
except, ask God to expedite your silence
as innocents don't deserve unkindness;
while I can face the tomorrow
without food, without water
how could you survive, my child
when your tongue and throat had dried
and I had no water to make you sip
to quench your thirst or wet your lips?
now as you go away from my bosom
take the route to rest
and get re-born
in another place if you can
where you will never be famished again,
where food and water will be ample
until we meet again
in another life,
in another street,
in another home
as mother and child
as well-nourished and well-fed.