They are the scape goats of kwashiorkor,
brought into this world as if by error,
not guilty is she in the court posed the juror.
All hope is lost’ cried Junior.
They are the less privileged,
orphans born in a faraway village.
Ruthlessly thrown away like foliage.
Having been there, even in our own age.
In the orphanage home they weep,
though devastated but seem hopeful every week.
Crying, weeping and waiting for the meek;
the harbinger of the mercy that does not leak.
There and then they sang improvise
‘we want neither your money nor your rice,
we don’t want your shoes which looks nice,
we just want a home which makes you wise!’
Blessings they are waiting for the kind,
miracle is not a thing of the mind.
Seek them and truly you shall find.
Then the treasures therein shall be all thine!
Picture courtesy, Kelechi Amadi-Obi