An excerpt from Farewell To My Dying Native Land by Tom P Cauuray:
When the sky played the rain-song
And the showers danced with you,
I remember the rhythm and the tune,
The whirring waltz which lulled my eyes to sleep.
These woes of war belabour sleep.
When you washed your dark-brown skin,
I smelled your spray of earth-perfume,
But now the scent of smouldering human flesh.
Your forests are scorched.
Your fauna crushed.
Your cheerful twigs on the bush-road edge,
Whose playful sprinkle washed my head,
Are all dead, now weevil’s bed.
Tom Cauuray, 2007.
Editor’s note: Tom Cauuray(photo), one of Sierra Leone’s most promising poets, recently passed away in Freetown.
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