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.