By Riak Marial Riak, Juba, South Sudan
–
Morad,
This human nature
Want us to nurture,
All no longer look mature,
Even the ethereal are still not sure.
–
Morad,
Are we gods to claim this power,
That our women are not ready to shudder,
Although we see them gather,
Is it a trick to show us valour and blather.
–
Tell me,
If we are in rush,
I should hang and crash,
For the glory of our generations to gush
And lie bemused by my mesh.
–
Morad,
Why are there people?
When the earth is nimble,
To shout and crumble
When we are young and terrible.
–
Morad,
Those on the streets of your city are children,
Napping with hungry heart and passed by brethren,
They now fear sunlight to strengthen,
They only bend and kiss in the nights then.
–
While they say it is me,
Working for the betterment of their sons to come.
Our people are nearly at home,
And the rain pounded fiercely on them like hailstone.
–
Riak Marial Riak is a South Sudanese poet, writer and dramatist. He can be reached at riakdeng23@gmail.com