The river of pain (poem)

This poem is dedicated to the poor orphans of Africa..children that the Great Nelson Mandela has left behind.

By Chris Veremu

You my good distant friend

Will never know the sour hurt

These multi-tunneled caverns

Resident in this my body temple

 

I see your mouth agape in shock

From deep bowels tears that choke

The stem the stalk your centre’s core

Assail your ears with sick tales of gore

 

Furious surging river floods tired eyes mine

Trampled underfoot pained my heart cries

Face contours anguished labyrinth here lies

What little love of life left on this scape dies

 

Myriad of times have I cried heavens high lost count

Drained savage robbed take peak into my dry soul

Ingrained therein a treasure trove of ravaged bounty

Strained tug of heart strings author shrillest of sounds

 

O how these high waves to shores of my very core pound

Bludgeoning soft centre endless deafening much too loud

Grudgingly blast my ears open harsh notes one may count

The only form my eyes can discern is haze and more doubt

 

I am the African child to you I find myself wound

Besides prayer what more can you offer me now

Your soothing words gold ounces only I can count

Much weighty grow in fast paced leaps and bounds

 

In turn I ask you restore to God his powered glory

This senseless killing frenzy must this moment stop

Deprive war of oxygen I ask no more makes me sore

Ugliness tears my world breaks my heart’s very core

 

By looking the other way you too kill me twice

Your unseeing hand with machetes held high

How many of my weak kind do you put to die

How many of my brethren do you to waste lay

 

Same hands tutored well so meant to heal

Cousin to wobbly knees that in prayer kneel

Hands that were made to touch caress so feel

Change over a heartbeat batter blast and kill

 

Could this heresy in some scriptures travesty

Go to the graves unpunished is that not tragedy

The wrath of the heavens its fury slowed to anger

Professes hurrying humankind to mortal danger

 

In scorched hell devil glows growls with glee

Paying back sinners in their own coined fee

In summation and totaled reward for deed

You sire quarreled with God your ego feed

 

You yes madam happily applauded your husband’s dare

Daring God brazen to arms with nary an ounce of shame

Raw pain you inflicted on the African child you made light

Now must find tears to douse the flames that burn bright

 

Now think well as you stew in your filth in fiery hell

You believed truly you did that your own children

Were molded out of tapestry richer than all woven

African child joins his God in ceaseless merriment