Yelling, Telling, Belling In The Harsh Time Poem by OPWONYA JOEL ONEN

Now, kiss that woman in rugs
And shade her house black
Going along a garbage of thugs
Why do leaders lack
The opinion to judge this festive
Maybe the sun is white
To heal; mothers yelling
Unborn blood clotting a while
Poor in labour, young girls telling
Boys to farm on family
Oh my soul, die now and reap
The burden of this pandemic, too deep
In the valley of dreams to keep
And awaken love highly
Belling to old love to care the fallen
Angels of this young brain
Quench the pain and thirst oh God
And teach us not to only gain
But to make dreams be got
Yeast make us sweet in the altar
Then on and on we realise
How to carry the star
Not to be in yolk of trial but dial.