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Our history is tinged with
mystery
And our pain laden with misery
We watch with ailing sight
And drop of frail hands in
despair
We swim in deep waters of plenty
Yet our taste buds shrivel from
thirst
Our barns bulge and burst at the
seams
Yet spasms of hunger grate our
entrails
We cry, we weep
We hiss, we wail
Our voices fail us
Our heads drop and fall
We bemoan our history
We mourn and loathe our heritage
We rouse, we chant
We fight, we die
We fight more, we live
We reject the grave
We stop the dirge
Life wakes up our heart
Life is sweet; life is pain-laden
Life is hope; death is sweet
sleep
We choose life; a painful irony
Till we banish this misery
And create our own history
© Abuja: 20-12-2008

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Posted by Robot| 06.06.2008 23:44