The Fields Dry Up Poem by Tony Adah

In the morning the sun
Rises above the hills
And flowers blossom like eternity
While fertile wombs bleed their
Crimson red;
The afternoons come with sordid tears
Flowers shrivelled like tobacco leaves
In a scorching maturity.
The fields dry up
And the green is brown
Those who bled their wombs
Are in a lonely mood
The sun to the west has gone
And those drowning have
Nothing to clasp with their empty hands
Life is sweet
And life is bitter.