Written by Joy Ijere
For over thirty weeks and six
When the food turns bitter-sweet
And all the clothes no longer fit
She bears the pain and counts the weeks
Through the cold, through the heat
She knows for sure where it will lead
For little hands and little feet
Soon from her will be revealed.
For four, five years and sometimes six
He has no shelter guaranteed
In dim and fading light he’ll read
Wants no other than As and Bs
Though all he eats is salty beans
He’s sure to never speak defeat
For one day he’ll live his dreams
With more than enough to eat.
At night, alone, she longed for him
So close he was she could touch him
But for that great gulf in-between
Oh, for her pride and dignity!
So fulfilled at last she’ll feel
When she finds him whom her soul seeks
But while he sleeps between the trees
Ssshh! Wake not her Lover till he please.
He’s two years and seventy old
Heard he has to go through CHEMO
Stage Four Cancer on the Memo
Night time, yet, without the shadows
Laughter like there’s no tomorrow
Can’t bear to give way to sorrow
For now he knows he’s reached that Close
Where he can do no more than hope.
Hope is the expectation
That something good will come
It’s what makes us to function
Even in the midst of the storm
We rise to work, and lie to sleep
For, far and yonder, we believe
That there’s a holy land of bliss
And that we’ll surely enter in.