By Riak Marial Riak, Juba, South Sudan
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I use to dig the wetlands,
Yawning for your heart,
Although you taste sour,
I know what I love,
To give your ears a charm,
That I have come a man,
To appease you.
–
Hatred is my dead brother,
That I have cut off his ears to hear not our whispers.
Amäng I’ll feed my sheep on you,
I use to dig the ground,
Searching for lost love,
Although hoes on my hands hove,
I crave for them,
To rove.
–
Human heart is an evil,
Give me peace,
Because I water your glands,
I know my father often dig these lands,
This red land,
We dug them,
For years.
–
Poet/author/philosopher or autodidact