The Mark

For a while now I haven’t recited my poetry of the ‘D’ or ‘W’
Old poems with their verses and meanings I have left
Even those I used to recite so beautifully
Yet, being a Somali my feelings are aroused 
I am filled with anger and great loss
An inner force obliges me to leave the silence and speak up

My poems imbue the anti-colonials with zest
But, alas, while the hopeless is at the helm of power
I thought none would heed my words; rather leave them out
Also seeing them beating drums for the worthless
I conjured animals are by far better; so not to worry about them
They are the real cause of their pain; so why bother

A person so cheaply won and accordingly marked
And remotely controlled is all that is left; so why the worry
Some decorated with false titles of the highest ranks 
Yet, flaming the passion for hatred are all that remain so far

It is not my choice; but I am compelled by sense of duty
To seek and recover some long lost dear ones
To replace this backwardness with something durable in value
To recover the cherished gathering tree long uprooted
And keep remembering heroes long buried in the grave
And those who have lost their lives in shipwreck 
As well as the reckless refugees riding the wild seas

A person who has been made to taste the bitterness of the aloe tree
And suffers wound caused by his brothers hardly recovers
A great fire is set in the forests of the country
And to ensure it remains ablaze has been planned by men
Who pay a lot of money that it continues unabated

This is an account of the perils and their devastating effects
The use of tanks and armoured cars for destruction
The mines scattered all over the land
The roaring guns coming from all sides by orders
Are all to the disgrace of those who care not 
The least for his own people

You would have lived in peace had you known your duty
You have surely chosen the path of your doom
You keep calling for war instead of shunning it
Your elders are bent on fanning enmity and hatred
The upcoming generation is the biggest victim
The aspiring youth are the first slain by the sword
The women and children are under constant threat of fire exchange
Like falling rain weapons come down showering over them
Yet, you come to the defence of those behind the machination

You are absolving them from their villainous deeds
Which means you’re submissive to your miserable affairs
You have registered yourself in the bad books of history
Ironically, you share the same brotherhood by birth and race
The flaming fire, the rising tide, the roaring wind
Why don’t you, acting together, put an end to them
Get reconciled, pray together, and work for peace
Engage your elders and clergymen in the mission
Come together from both feuding sides dressed in your best attire
Open all venues of amity; the people who are so sick and tired

Let me not look like scratching the wounds unhealed yet
For continuing on the same vein will only aggravate matters
So, in conclusion, may I ask you to join me in beseeching God
To bless us with a gallant and honest leader
One against exploitation and for our protection
One steeped in patriotism and goodness for his people
May God also send us clouds full of rain
 That falls in spring and winter too making the land evergreen,
And purifying our souls of all ill feelings.

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