Not Enough
Sweet morning dew graces empty fields
of maize and sugar cane recently harvested;
not enough food to feed the hungry.
Hot sun rises over red-brown mud huts,
cracks breaking in a thousand directions;
not enough shelter to deflect the burning ray.
Women labouring, gathering, working,
men waiting for something to happen;
not enough justice to cover the hurt.
Orphan children carrying infants too young
to feel the pain except in their belly;
not enough strength to carry on.
Parent-child is forced into labour
never parented, never embraced;
not enough love to go ‘round.
Relentless human tragedy races
like a tsunami out of control;
not enough will to turn the tide.
Why?
When there is more than enough
to keep the dogs of Aids at bay.
Michael Frederiksen Under the Acacia Tree Anthology
October 24, 2008
Sweet morning dew graces empty fields
of maize and sugar cane recently harvested;
not enough food to feed the hungry.
Hot sun rises over red-brown mud huts,
cracks breaking in a thousand directions;
not enough shelter to deflect the burning ray.
Women labouring, gathering, working,
men waiting for something to happen;
not enough justice to cover the hurt.
Orphan children carrying infants too young
to feel the pain except in their belly;
not enough strength to carry on.
Parent-child is forced into labour
never parented, never embraced;
not enough love to go ‘round.
Relentless human tragedy races
like a tsunami out of control;
not enough will to turn the tide.
Why?
When there is more than enough
to keep the dogs of Aids at bay.
Michael Frederiksen Under the Acacia Tree Anthology
October 24, 2008
