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A Mothers fear.

An old woman cried all through the night,
For she lost four sons in a bloody fight,
 Their voices still heard, in a distant past,
 Born so quickly, and died so fast,
 Fought for freedom, a right to survive,
 Worked so hard, to stay alive,
Born in tyranny, starving, and meek,
 Women and children, hungry and weak,
 Clansmen scrounging around for food,
 The rest of the tribe, gathering wood,
 Mud huts leaking, raining hard,
 Fires going out, lame and retard,
 Freedom is distant, lives are lost,
 Counting the sacrifices, mourning the loss,
 One day they will sing, depression will lift,
 Praying to god for his simplest of gifts,
 Death to be rewarded in a life of new,
 The old woman cried, for her people and you
 Remembering her sons, who fought and tried, 
To make life better, to live with pride,
 Many more deaths, when will it end?
 For rights and freedom, forever defend,
 It will be here one day, it’s a dream,
 Where reality rules, ahead at full steam
 The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak,
 But death is reality, a humanity tweak.
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