A Windmill Out Of Africa Poem by Josette Lager

My child walks ten miles a day,
to and from, just to drink putrid
water and eat a hand full of
crumbs.

As he drinks he begins
to sob it makes him so
sick he's living and dying
all at once.

Hey Jamaica mon'
this is Gumby mon'
give me a windmill
out of Africa give me
a wellspring of living
waters so my little boy
can live.

I seem to recall the artesian
waters of New Zealand and
how the windmill would deliver
the water clean and pure.

Give me no hydraulics
mon' our sun parched
land has been ravaged
enough.Give me a windmill
out of Africa so my little boy
can live.

Josette Marie Louise Lager
Copyright@2005