Tears for Somalia

No matter how early one rises with the sun
Instead of the birds singing before the day’s begun
Russian revolvers chatter louder and louder
Before falling into line in my Somalia

Instead of the promise of the morning air
Shooting, shelling, killing are the days here,
Where life not so precious schools in things that guns do,
Not for reading and writing and dreams too…
The roads to somewhere blocked everywhere

Kids dare, Sleep with the Devil and see no Evil
Instead guns replace toys, for what is joy
When trust is a word with no meaning

On the coastline of homes, the sun seems to shine
If you are hungry you join the battle to survive,
Yet children dare not chill, thrilled by the echo of bullets
As their endless hunger, so why should they
They don’t want to, but got no choice

Replace the internal scream with firing Kalashnikovs
like playing soccer or American football
Where the bodies of children were raised to move around like muggers,
killing everybody they see

The right to life keeps being circumvented
Replaced by Sorrow burdened souls un-placated
Because they believed the wrong really love us

Peace has run out of space here,
Just to mention it,
Invites two flying bullets
Or a free magazine

The rule of law is incarcerated by,
Murderers, bombers, ghosts for leaders
Where Future has no light
Good things went to hell,

And bad things got worse
Just to end this misery life
I wish I could die
These are the words of a freelance journalist, a Somali, and a man of values, Abdulkarim Jimale, but don’t believe everything in the media again, for the travesty of Somalia is the illusion that it exists like Haiti except to serve other nation.


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