I Met A Woman Poem by Sekyewa Godfrey

I Met a Woman

At the well,
I met a woman this morning.
Her face black with fury,
Turned ashen; unaware if
A new dawn would come.
Her bruises bled, livid with shock,
And the reverberant hue of death.

Blanched cheeks tried to speak,
But with bloodless, motionless lips.
I gazed at her shrank rumps,
Overly exploited by greedy compatriots.
The once healthy muvule tree,
Has withered, bartered for cash.
My motherland bitterly sobs.

Her enthusiasm dwindled in lantern jaws.
The parasites forget that they will die too
When their motherland breathes her last.
Oh Uganda, my motherland!
Drink from my calabash,
And soothe those anemic eyes.
(Sekyewa Godfrey)