MY Love MY Heart My country Somalia 

my mother told me about the days when the government began to disband 

when the people of the homeland rebuffed against being in a government's command 

and you went from beauty and peace to turmoil do things you could not withstand 

but see I was little when my mother told me about such harsh days 

too little to have the lucidity to appreciate the history she wanted me to acquire 

I guess those were different from the fairytales I use to admire 

 

I'M SORRY at the moment i did not know 

your beauty, how precious you are and all that you know 

and now, I feel like I have awoken 

remembering the words my mother has spoken  

as a young kid such little things i remember 

when you were a stray convicts dreamland 

whose eager for famine and wars to expand, did not think of you as a motherland 

just a hell-hole whose children's blood they demanded 

 

I remember the days when my feet touched your remarkable red sand 

where the demon-like people devoured the hope there is to aspire 

elucidated the ways of killing one another 

and this was nothing! just a little misdemeanor 

and to some a hero's work to which they gave a hand 

because such pain they admired 

 and everyone's life was just some cheap attire 

their bodies were used to fulfill one man's desires

 

While the mother's in the land they cried their words on fire 

the tears they shed crying louder then a boisterous student in a choir 

these mothers one little question they inquire 

why was my son consumed by the heat of some clan,  the wrath of someone higher 

torched by the fire like a dead body in a funeral pyre 

 

I'M SORRY at the moment  I did not understand 

an insecure little child I was

and all these things became obscene to me 

that my mind just could not obtain 

and I say to myself as I remember 

 

The revenge-driven clan with a deepened wound 

their mission to make a loved one diseased 

oh GOD have they sinned as they followed the foot steps of the Satan ! 

the children receiving obituaries becoming an orphan 

their tears down to their knees it glistened 

 

my beloved, my motherland 

don't your people see what their actions has caused ? 

don't they hear your cries like my mother did ? 

 

when you say 

 

"oh my!

my people what have you done!

turning mole hills into mountains 

even the littlest of the problems you could not maintain 

when did the killings become such a great sport--

a capricious killer jumping from body to body 

becoming the champion hurdler of that sport " 

 

and now I say , 

 

"oh my beloved to you I say

maybe one day your people will be awoken

remembering the words their mothers have spoken

their words on fire, one thing they shall recite

MY LOVE MY HEART MY COUNTRY SOMALIA