A flaming tanker
By Khadija Jalloh, USA
My heart cries
My soul sinks
The pain is deep
I see the scars of
The tank blazing
The burnt pregnant woman
Paining, the agony of the
People clueless to the
Problem that awaits
A standing tank
With fuel- disturbing
Imagine the tank ready to
Blaze and murmuring to them
To leave, the tank was the
Only one seeing the danger
Looming.
I cried watching the poor
Who converged to make a
Living out of the menacing
Tank. My tongue is still
Wagging- whilst punching
Myself with a few questions:
Were poverty, illiteracy
And negligence the reasons
Then Mahatma Ghandi comes
To mind: poverty is the worst
Form of violence.
I shouted with a tempering
Sound cursing poverty,
Why always us!
The crying Freetown cried again!
Rest well fellow compatriots
Sierra Leone mourns again!
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