What happened to you, my beloved?

What happened to you, my beloved?

I remember people came to see you to bath in the warmth of your beautiful sunny weather

You were once the beauty and pride of the Horn of Africa

The land of beautiful people with poetic tongue 

The land of poets 

The land of philosophers who spoke wisdom more than the blink of the eye

The land where  humanity resided in the hearts of every one 

And, compassion was the life line of the people 

We were in the land where faith grew in the hearts

And we prayed for one another in a common language we all understood

But greed and hatred turned your children against one another

Kill and loot one another

In the name of a silly thing that robbed them of their senses

They placed you in the wrong hand

Since then, beloved you have been abused by your own

And, foreign vultures took advantage of the lack of unity within your people

To use you as a garbage land....

I lament because I know your great potentials

I know you are much much more than what I see on my T.V set

But baby just know every dog has its own day

And, our day is coming

It will come with the honor you deserve

And the beauty you own

Until then, you stay strong

                           You beat in my heart without even the mentioning of your name.  

Fatima Ahmed

Copyright © 2011

Poem on Drought

Poem on Drought

Drought is to the land

What thirst is to the people

It is a silent killer,

It comes and it lingers,

Crops die and people hunger,

Farmers grow weary

Their efforts and struggles

Show for nothing,

and hence why they're teary

Vegetation becomes a luxury,

and soon a famine is but near,

The lucky ones lose their wealth

Whilst others lose most of their families.

Mothers cradle death,

and fathers are mixed with sorrow  and grief

They stare silently with empty eyes

Long gone are heroics

With the clothes on their back,

They travel,

They've heard stories of help,

and, so they journey

They reach camps-

as sole survivors

Their young ones had soon departed

They are told to stand in line

For hours they do

and are granted no concession.

Help is indeed a funny concept,

Soon though Ramadhan descends,

and in their hearts

Spread

Little shards of tranquility

and they pray to the one who Hears

Of their sorrows, dreams & new dependence.

Amal Saed

Copyright © 2010