Part 1: Orphan
The dream of an orphan child
Brought to her by a dove
Images of great men in the wild
With great power and hatred for love
After delivering, the dove was caught on fire
Liberta’s torch had reached the higher
With cold sweat she woke from her sleep
Looks outside through her window of pain
Trying to recall the last days of rain
But her already short memory is fading
How long since the day we started failing
She was somebody’s child but heard little
(She is a child of the state until death)
Of dark times when life had become virtual
(Life is what she sees and what she sees is death)
And her folks taken for their abolished ritual
(A people persecuted and some saw death)
Her heritage and legacy is thus dust
Lost in her thoughts she doesn’t notice
This strange figure watching from the corner
Trying its best to take away her focus
It may be that all around her has gone too somber
But the specimen decides to take advance
With grace and tenderness the creature speaks
A word, a word that reveals its presence
Frightened at first, then curious and marvelled
“Fear not little child for none is to harm you
I see darkness and sorrow behind those eyes
But I am here to tell you that joy is long due
There is One who has heard your cries
And he alone has felt your pain
He watched you and watches over you
When you look outside and wait for the rain”
To be continued…
-Benny Kiza
