The Black Child

By Wenne Madyt Dengs (A poet and Jounalist)

You’re thrown into inexpressible situation
Your names are nothing but a curse
You’re the unluckiest child of all races
With deep distress mend destitute
You’re born with bow in your hand

Your body is infested with live maladies
You’re resistant to modern drugs
You are either a male or female human;
Who is wild-blooded
You feed on wild food;
At your childish stage
You’re neither a monkey nor man

You genre must be generally doomed
Whitish slogan is resources
That you inherit from your forefathers
Those races without origin
Those races without ancestry belongings
Wanted to debut your race

Blessed with lame tongue
That can’t vibrate for breathing reality
The tongue that vibrates for self interest
To eat and ease is what your mental cares
Leaving the pressing neighboring colonization
That gives you hatred between yourself

About Post Author

PaanLuel Wël

administrator

PaanLuel Wël is the founder and editor-in-chief of PaanLuel Wël Media Ltd, a news website that covers news, opinions, analysis, history, culture and literature of South Sudan and the world. Founded in July 2011 by PaanLuel Wël to create a platform for free expression and constructive dialogue, the website features articles from various contributors, including columnists, commentators, poets, authors, activists and academics. PaanLuel Wël believes that media can play a vital role in informing, educating and empowering the people to participate in nation-building and social transformation. He also believes that media can foster a culture of dialogue, tolerance and diversity among different communities and groups, and hopes to inspire and mentor the next generation of South Sudanese writers and journalists.

See author's posts