By Awuol Gabriel Arok, Juba, South Sudan
–
With its beautifulness and greatness
My mother bore the hardship of Pregnancy and tirelessness;
This world, the village of darkness, evil hoppers and choppers,
You made it mum and now I am here in this world;
World of people who live on weariness and hope
*
In the world of hope; my parents
Brain minded me to the use of pens,
White writing became my immediate assets and belong,
Young and humble man parenting writing materials;
Clearing chalk dust from my empty looking face
*
In the world of hope; my consciousness;
Accepted all ups and downs journey of life,
By taking time in studying papers, hearing speech;
And visually exploring the world,
Mum; I was not idle among my age mates,
And to you dad; I was a fireworm among my colleagues
*
In the world of hope; my foot tumbled, on the black stones of death
In this world of hope, I am able to wade
Through high valleys and mountains of flowing waters
And Through my aspiration I am able to step into;
The Muddy River and cross it to get the burning wires of the fortunate.
*
In the world of hope; I have to be a soldier;
A culture of my generation,
Making me a dualistic gentleman with;
Titles of comrade and academia,
A man in the struggling circle and revolution of his generation
In the world of hope, folks assume future to be the target
Without knowing Peace is costless and Hardship is a blame.
You can reach the poet via his email: jjmkamzeearokson@yahoo.com
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