Thursday, October 23, 2008


The streets are crowded, dust and dirt,
Horns blare, vacant eyes stare, hearts hurt.
Shouting, laughing, talking, children walking,
Baskets, water buckets, donkey's braying.

Sewage, garbage, rocks, ruts, and goats
Dog's barking, people bartering, full totes.
Market places, goods for sale, pigs wallow,
Broken trucks, flat tires, it's hard to swallow.

Pungent smells, burning eyes, dirty water,
Smiles, a friendly word, a momentary falter.
A cyclist with one leg, a child that begs,
An old woman sits, many skinny legs.

Is there promise on these city streets,
I wonder and ponder as everything creaks.
The road so rough and ruddy, and maligned,
Speaks of the hardship of sad broken times.

Oh sad country with such solemn sights,
Come back to God who heals such plights.
People laden with poverty's yoke,
Need to know there is heaven's bright hope.

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