I WRITE TO HEAVENS FOR THY NATION (iii)

If we should be tested,  
Spare our Children  
for they are Soft white Soil,  
with no stain.  

Dear heavens!
I write today,  
not of the fathers,  
Whose Shoulders has grown weary,  
And hair has burn off.  

I write, not of the mothers  
who’s tears seasons Endless prayers  
making it taste delicious,
with hope and Strength.

Today, I write of the little ones  
the ones who should be Chasing  
butterflies,  
bubbles,
In that green garden.  

The ones who should be  
a free bird, not a Caged bird.
the ones, who is to eat  
from mother’s breast.

Now fighting for Survival  
Like an ant locked in darkness. 

I write of the little ones,
who’s Classroom is now burial ground.  

I write of the Children  
who now Sleep with Uniforms  
In cold bushes, no one knows of.  
who’s School bags now carry burdens  
heavier and stronger than their hungry Stomachs.  

I write of the little legs  
who walks miles for knowledge  
Yet found no way home.  
their heads once met for knowledge  
Is now Sliced for fun.  

the ones who’s body  
were met for Soft hug.
now pierced with smokey rods  
with no hope of home.  

Heavens  
did you not See their pain?  
did you not hear their cry?  
“Bring the Children to me”
those are your words?  
did you not See them?  

little ones were taken from Classroom.  
Class became a battlefield.  
mothers became warriors,  
fathers became hunters,  
Searching for their bone.  

oh heavens  
little ones are still waiting.
for a Saviour,
for protection,
for an uncertain future.  

I ask!
who shall Answer
the questions of the little ones?  
Who shall Answer when they say---  
Do we really have a God?  
because we prayed?  
are we a Curse on earth?  
did we Commit Crimes?  

who shall give them Answers?  

Funmilayo Bayo  
Funmiwrites