THIS SIDE OF TOWN

We were born in the part of town
Where people went to die
And despite the fact that our wings bled
We still made plans to fly

The streets are lined with bleeding corpses
Air heavy with death
You can hear the cry of a million souls
At night, coming from the earth

Who killed my people?
Who made my children motherless?
Who burnt all our crops?
Who came and turned our more to less?

Why are my people silent?
Why are their bodies cold?
When will they know of this part of town?
When will our stories be told?

These questions stay unanswered
And weigh on our spirits daily
We stay here hoping that as He has His eye on the sparrow
He watches us too – just maybe

We were born in the part of town
That angels saw and wept
And demons saw and fled with speed
Where our restless souls are doomed to rest.

Poetry (c) Edwin Madu
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IMAGE: Ryan Cadby via Flickr