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If We Must!!

If  We  Must!!



Yared Huluf



Beat the drum

This time round real hard

Until the knuckles feel sore,

And swollen goes the arms.

Hard beat receive, Oh! African drum,

So what if the there is a bit of knuckle Harm,

If only to wake up the mind that had gone numb.

Yes, beat the drum

The children out they come

In trance and flanged arms

Dance to the tune and hums

To the seductive call of death in

defense of battered Mums.

Let their voice rise to a thunderous roar,

Their faces blazed in anger

Rupturing the passive outer cover

To release the indomitable magma,

That is buried under

Unremittingly meander,

Like a gentle turned deadly river.

Let the guns roar

And drench the covetous ghoul

With lead and sulfur,

Cauterise the skin,

In pain running the last run

In search of a shelter,

That can be found nowhere.

Shake the feet of the aggressor in tremor.

Inflict his heart with terror.

Once again

For failing to learn

That there is nothing to gain

When the sleeping giant awakes

Just to discover vultures

Pecking the scab of his wound

He had rather long left to heal.


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