A Somali-Muslim sister decided to dedicate a poem, to this African leader. However, she wants to remain anonymous, which is cool with me. I do think that this poem is good, and, that she has something important to say in this particular work. So, this is also the reason as to why I am happy & proud to display her writing.
You don’t recognize us But we are the children of your fight Black and white.
I write what I like, you said. Now they do what they like; we mourn for you.
But Steve, mourn for us How handsome you were The infinite potential of youth.
Then a bludgeoned bloated corpse We don’t recognize you in those pictures Black and white.
But it was proof of what they did to you Though we were shy to see it We mourn for you.
But Steve, mourn for us Mourn the tender deal Tender and kind.
Deep in the bowels of the earth there lies our wealth And with glittering glee.
Our leaders squeal It’s mine, it’s mine Squandered with stealth Buyer and lender smile.
While the child Without books, without shoes, walks to a school without teachers Mile after mile.
With every million that divides rich and poor Mourn for us With every woman raped Mourn for us.
With each death Black and white Mourn for us How pretty we were.
The endless possibilities of a country renewed Are our bludgeons to the head
self-inflicted? …as they said yours were Bloated – but not a corpse …yet?
We have all the proof, though we are shy to see it Black and White Rest In Peace.