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THOUGHTS ON AUGUST 14, 2001
I walk on dark and dirty streets,
I see the people eating, enjoying,
I hear the cry of my homeland booming,
The tremor within is agonizing.
What has happened to this land of mine,
Why hasn't it marched forward with time,
Why has it failed to progress, prosper,
Why is it still like a valley of fear.
The tormented waves laugh at me in scorn,
In my heart I lament the day I was born,
The stretching wet sand reveals footprints,
The dark clouds warn of a coming storm.
The mountains are burning, rivers are dry,
The desert jokes with a buzzing fly,
The skin is a shroud on some famished bones,
While some in parlours their make-ups try.
Hotels with five stars blink at me,
The latest cars are on a hooting spree,
On my right hand the villas are grand,
On my left the slum dwellers stand.
I ask myself: Is this the independence we wanted,
Isn't it more of a nightmare very haunted?
