The Orphan Poem by ANTHONY ANIGBATA

THE ORPHAN

Born to this world but left lone so easily
This lonely being deserves your pity
Treat him like you would your son or daughter
For no parent has he to give him shelter.

The street often his dwelling place
No one in trouble-times give him solace
As many as the stars his sorrows be
Pricking his heart like the sting of a bee

This lad came from the home where
No one care when storm ravage, fear
Of kins wanting his inheritance brim his heart
And in this wicked world, none care his plights

Out there in the night, during the rainy season
He sleeps without food, like one in prison
Out there he stands, during the harsh harmattan
Singing his sad songs alone to no ear
Songs of the horrors of being left jejune

Of those who have tasted, the bitterness of men
Endured the horse whip of mindless masters
The hate of hundreds of fellow country men
The harshness of the weather - wet or dry

He seeks the solace of death, every dusk and dawn
For he is tired of the abuse bathed on him.
Born to this world but left lone so early.
We with parents may not truly know
What it takes to be, child without parents alive.