I sat silently in the middle,
Surrounded on all sides,
By my homeland walls.
Turning, I faced the North.
So much blood bathed my face
That I soon turned my visage South,
But oily tears the revolting stench of corruption,
Had me averting my face!
The East and West gave no respite!
So I stood up disgusted,
Determined to leave it all!
But some little things caught my attention;
A young man giving to the poor
From his meager little,
One honest politician
Fulfilling his promises,
A land with no hurricanes sandy or windy,
Young ones rising out of the Ashes…
I sat back down,
And ever since haven’t stopped,
Doing these beautiful little things!
meet the poet: Chikatito Jones
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.