Wanderer

I am the voice of the African child
The child disowned and unloved
The child whining and sobbing on the streets
The home-grown seed of corruption

I am the voice of a thousand seeds
Spread across the sun burnt hills of Africa
Lost in thorns and mal-irrigated
My coasts on streams of blood

I am the voice of a thousand waters
Dirty dampy and desecrated
A drink to nations born and unborn
The west on my wealth doth bask

Through life's roughest paths
I have trodden in tears
When I look past the present
I see nothing but haze
Haze of gloom
Glooms of hopelessness

Not a passing saviour
On my door has knocked
Nor an angel
My tears has wiped

Not a birthday cake
My wishes will bear
Nor a santa
A surprise has paid

My body mass
A matchstick on a scale
My throat and stomach
A path in Sahara desert

Every problem comes with a solution
Every solution with a resolution
Every resolution with hopeful impossibility
Every impossibility, a new problem

Life is so precious
But I'm running out of it
Patience is a virtue
But can I wait any longer?

I have to face life
Like in the aquarium strive for survival
I have to learn independence
Like a baby, be weaned of the breasts

I will press on
I will rise
Though life comes dart after dart
Still I will rise

• (An excerpt from my novel "Enemy Within)

Photo Credits: Google.com