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The waters still and quiet as the graves
No mist’s tiny feet over the grove
Nor sweltering sunshine over the roof
No holidays to tedium berate
Nor a new year to an increase celebrate
No spinning mills to grind the gruel
Only a constant mingling of hunger’s duel
No hands to hold in the cold
Nothing, just scattered bits of a fold
No deity to turn to in crises
No god near when the need ‘rises
No mountains to hold the snow
No valleys for the daisies to grow
No bonding of the turtle doves
If our hearts can’t be nudged by love.
Written by: Chileh Pedro
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
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