Please sir stop,
Am only 13 years old,
Am not ready to become a mother,
I have science and math sums to do.
Please fire stop,
If you burn down the hut,
My only skirt goes with you,
And the cold night winds shall have no mercy on my bones.
Please God stop,
This Lord of war from cooking mummy in a pot,
For he madly believes she is a gift to you,
A deity in need of sacrifice.
Please doctor stop,
This sickness of the blood,
I have a 14th birthday to reach, a house to build,
A mummy to pray for and a hope to find….
Any hope if it can, soak up this pool of tears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Questions to Dickson Wasake LITTLE ANEK PRAYS; Did you have any tears as you gathered, mingled, plasted... dried and baked it? with which tool did you do it? It touched me in the deeps. Dickson Wasake, I pray that God may use you to the last droplet. As for PoemHunter.com, may God grant you favor that you may touch Heaven and change earth but to His likeness. Love ya, paul mugano