Lost in the search for liberation, it’s like a scent familiar but its origin is not forthcoming. I dwindle my existence in a bewildered nation, hoping for an early spring. Persistence in planting seeds for over twenty something years, yet they will not grow. I plow the fields buried beneath the winter snow; only sheer hope keeps me amongst the living as the heart beats slowly.
I can and I will is the ignition of my motivation, I sit in my shelter and I plan and pray. Foundations in the cold harsh reality I continuously lay. So much pain as the enemy is so similar. I might as well be staring in a mirror and in my heart rages uninterrupted winter.
What do you say when there is nothing left to say, when that spark I had within me flies way on the wings of yesterday. Prepare for the inevitable hoping the soil darkens my forehead when I prostrate. Come the day I will need light to easy my way, guidance from heaven please shine on me, as I always seem to stray. They want me living amongst the lambs when I am bred by the lions.
Drawing allegiances for the love of clan and they call it loyalty. There seems to be an affection that renders my people motionless and unable to sober up to the destruction. I burn like a fire that kindles the atmosphere into an inferno, robbing me of that precious tomorrow. They say the gun is reliable compared to the pen; dialogue is not an option best it be forgotten.
I speak to my people, so many even today, it is not over until we are even they say. Dreams of extermination, riddling one another with ammunition, is this the path that we prefer. Bloodshed and further animosity for success we deter, cutting down the precious trees of life, unmindful of the beautiful fruits they bare.
Everyday I look at Somalia and I wish I could take a glimpse into time, maybe the future is brighter and such an image would give me peace of mind. Home sweet home, sweeter then the honeycomb, I hunger for peace were my people were born. The land that raised my father, the man I admire like no present other.
He said journey through this earth but always remember the one who channeled your birth. Nothing is more precious then your mother, the way you love her then love Somalia. You may not understand but in my mind it’s like two rivers that flow besides each other. Similar to the lifeline of the people, shebelle and juba. How I would cherish to drink from your waters.
My frustration echoes in my generation, we must seize the hour. Some how we can make dreams into reality if only we come together. Disregard misconstrued honor and pledge commitment to our principles and humanity, casting aside disillusions of ignorance, in our chests resides the roots of the almighty’s power.
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