Thursday 30 August 2018

STREET CHILDREN BY AMADI NJOKU

As though children were playthings
They are sired with no plans and care
That will in time put them in the right footings.
The twist of fate is some time not fair.

In them we see future so bright and rosy
Yet the maturation of years lurks them in daze
Where their hopes and dreams become fuzzy.
Why give birth to them in dozens when we know our resources are lean?

From cradle they taste the nectar of hardship
And become teens clothed in wrong values.

When we could hardly get them two courses a day
We consign them to the rigors of the street
Where t'is cold to the extreme when it rains
And scotchingly hot when it shines.

At the birth of day when other kids
Happily hurry to school to brood on books
We see them in slums and streets
Importuning for alms to stave off
The nagging pangs of hunger;
At a close range we could count
The roll of bones on their emaciated ribs.
Some with trayloads of wares
Hawking for parents to put food on the family table.
They have become fathers of the men
Fending for them that fathered them.