Temple of Words

Here I am, in the water that cools, That soothes my body, Opening my mind And diluting my soul. Here I am, a boy who reveals his soul, About the hardship of my being Left on the shape of my torn soles Painted with dark colours on the rough canvas of my life: And here i am, again, revealing my soul. For who will I tell, except you, about mama Who was said to have killed papa By the ones he held close to heart, All for the love of money Flowing to a mirageous eternity? Who will I tell that his body wasn't buried in his home And that his only son is now a sheep in the street Left with the memories of his departed bloods? Who will I tell about last night That a boy of a morning age Was struck in the night By a man of a night ape Who made him gush blood from his anus!? I feel the pain right there beneath I feel it too deeply in my breath And also in my darkened heart, tearing my being. Ah, who will I tell of this "harbour in a mean nation”? Who will

Ask the boys Whose hands were covered With the mud of their mother's grave, Ask them if they really knew What laid within the soil below their feet. Tell the boys Whose toy kits were the bones Of their closest mates Ask them if they knew The femur their father once owned Is now the fervour for the dog to crack: Tell the boys who were Snatched from the hands of dreams And handed over to imbalance When the single song of sorrow Tore their eardrums off peace.... Ask them if they still have dreams I doubt they will say no, They do have dreams they may never find. Mide Benedict War is nothing but the inactions of peace Peace and war are nothing but the actions of us