O, my motherland,
South Sudan,
Once you
were the house of love,
Now ragged and filled with hatred.
Once you
were the centre of unity,
But now the
creator of disunity.
You were
once the mother of orphans,
But now the
murder of the orphans.
Remember
your past self,
The year you
were born,
Your
pregnancy, the years you conceived,
Your birth
pains, the moment you were born.
Voices in
the graves call out,
Echoes of
tears across the rivers,
Whispers of
regret on the mountaintops.
Listen to
the messenger of the gone.
Fold your
hands, bow your heads,
Take a cup
of water, sip a little.
Time is
running out, sorrow is bleeding,
Rivers
swollen, spitting out every bone.
Needless pains,
orphans and widows mourn,
Retelling the
curse on their loved ones
What a case to
take revenge, but
A call to
peace, a call to heal.
Ayella John Bosco
Writer, Critic and Teacher
THE INTENDED MESSAGE:
This Poem laments the loss of unity, love, and peace in South Sudan, while urging reflection on the past and its impact on the present. The poem encourages healing, peace, and an end to suffering, particularly for vulnerable groups like orphans and widows.
