THIS DISTANT LAND
poetry·@williamshenry·
0.000 HBDTHIS DISTANT LAND
<center></center> [Source](https://unsplash.com/photos/f0rdHx5P8sQ) In a distant land Where the seas are always in conflict And trees are never in bloom In sunny villages With abandoned farmlands laid to waste In small huts Filled with bonny faces and thin frames eyes glued to the fire-place waiting for the pot. Still in this far away land Sounds of the next generation echoes throughout the land Loud tones,soft whispers, gentle shouts, clasped hands, movements.... In that distant land where yam barns are left bare And pounding mortars grow scarce The tools of the diligent farmer Seems to bring little harvest instead of a bumper. Hunger has found a place to stay The tenders one's are yet to forget it's name Not only have they come to hear its fame But have experienced in doses same Help is yet to come their way.. In this distant land I see a budding generation Rising from the four cardinal points with giant-sized heads on line necks and rotund bellies settled on tiny hips The ringworms have done not a small job leaving sore designs on their hard skulls This distant land is filled with tender ones With bare bonny legs covered by a thun-sliced pound of flesh Dripping noses like wastes from the entrails of a bull. In another distant land You'll find them sitting on spread-out mats with calabashes and pleading eyes Hoping to get changes from the 'Highly' With railway tracks on their cheeks Having not known a wash nor a visitation of the comb Flies make their bodies a bed of rest Sun-fried faces speaks loud of woes and sufferings.. You could tell the rest. This land filled with the next generation Who have experienced peaces and wars Cold and mist have become their foes and friends. Parched,torn,dirty rags for covers on their light frames The days keeps coming Each holds unto a flicker of hope and keeps hoping Waiting for a change yet uncertain when When you come across the children from the distant world Who have long been separated from love,care and affection by time and seasons Abandoned shacks have become their mansions Bridges have become their shelter against the evil lurking in corners at night For the very life they live, they never bargained for Think instead this way, WHAT IF IT WERE TO BE ME? then you'll acknowledge that they are also a product of creation And not without a divine destination In your own small way, help them fulfill their earthly assignments It begins with having a "Loving Heart" _**Dedicated to the children on the streets of his who have known the sad faces of toil, lack,maltreatment and malnutrition**_