joyfully clad
in florally wreaths
little drummers,
little dancers,
little worshippers…
of the Most High God
once
bony,
red-eyed,
torn,
mud-clothed,
cold,
sold
now fond
our silent tears
a hope found
formed and fed
in this great garden
by the Awesome Creator.
Children of Uganda
are
Children of the Most High God.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem