When the day gets closer
The people begins to wonder
From the rivers to the borders
From every hamlet to every village
From every county to every town
The nation red, white and blue above Mt. Barclay
Beneath the Cavalla River are dove, rising sun, palm tree, ship
And around the Executive mansion eyes glimpse the crowded Monrovia
Influx of them from far the hinterlands with blank pockets
Struggling, scrambling to make the day for tomorrow
Yawning and yelling all hours are marketers
Weeping tears along the bumpy roads as eyes testify Monrovia Police are petit traders
But here and there to get meals for the kids like a war of no gun sound
Let’s climb hills along Kpekedu
So as we fall down town for refuge
Let’s move around Capitol Hill
And see those Suv, Nissan patrol
Those big shots with the pockets
And you there with folded arms
Resting in beautiful huge palaces
While we run down in dawn to Joba
While we go to squeeze up in Jorpen Town
You then run again to and from the Atlantic Ocean
Like an orator of today independence
Standing by the way side in sorrow of lad and gal with torn cloth
Like an orator of today independence having not much but to ask is there a hope ahead?
I want to know, still yet not knowing when Papa will come
Like an orator of today independence moving along the Somalia Drive with
the flag as if compatriots are not there
Grieving high in hearts, where we go now
*Homes so like bitter ghettos, roaming poverty stricken gal, lad
Resting somewhere Kendeja pouring the money to wine and dine with my big Cigar
Like an orator of today independence so to be ignored again
Mohammed Salue- sy,
[email protected]