by Kelvin Jumah

 
I interlock my fingers to pray,
And so to the ground I lay,
And close my eyes to welcome the darkness,
And for sure darkness came,
The darkness of the young mothers, who clean people?s fabrics,
The darkness of the young mothers, who sell groundnuts by the roadside,
Some are widows,
Some confused, abused and used; by their ?better halves?
Who fall under the tag, ?CERTIFIED ALCOHOLICS?
And so I open my eyes and take a stroll,
And I see this confused society?s fall,
The situation is actual and serious after all,
Mothers never got the opportunity to sit before a teacher,
Never got the opportunity to face the chalkboard,
The opportunity to manipulate a pen and a paper,
And so they struggle to change the situation,
To get rid of the undesired destination,
For their kids, they strive to do all these,
And with the little pennies they get from their hustles,
Their kids manage to hold a pen and a notepad,
Feed their ever-hungry stomachs,
Pay rent for their tiny mud-built structures,
But before the month ends,Debts, debts and debts come flowing,
School fees has always been the struggle,
And the kids are used to these unfortunate lifestyles,
They are forced to take off their tattered uniforms,
And they work in every aspect,
To help their mothers hustle for the day,
While hoping a Messiah will come their way,
To cast these problems and sorrows away!
Written by Kelvin Jumah
©Debirdz, 2014