LITTLE SCOOPS:

Down by the wadi, where the rain once fell,

Few mere droplets, scarce enough to fill a well,

Wept tears of man & sky, forming clay & mud,

Mingling, the backbone of Africa´s old dry blood.

 

Scoop by small handed scoop, for tiny little sips,

Down dusty little chins, sad wasted water drips,

Quenching arid throats, with dark & murky swills,

Drinking for life, from dirty liquid that sadly kills.

 

Tin by tin, gourd by gourd, all moisture now abating,

Hands cupped, lips chapped, vulture silently waiting,

Sun scorching, beast prowling, silence, drop by drop,

Earth & knees, in prayer cracked, “Please Lord let it stop”.