Friday, March 5, 2010

Part three: Group poem 7: Somalia

Our country might not be much different from yours
Where every sound is a blur, and every hope is left unsure
A fallen tear drop is what it is a nation burned so deep
A city that haunts you in your sleep
My flag is the only thing left, the last representation of me
My native Somali tongue will never go unsung
In this land it hurts to say that hope may be lost
At every possible cost but I will keep on believing
despite what my eyes are seeing I hope you can see it too,
one day peace will shower that land that stood so proud
One day will be that land that will stand prouder than ever

Dee Bambaataa
copyright 2010

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