In a dirty string-like cloth, bottom and chest bare
A body in patches, and dried wounds show
In supplication, hands held out ghostly, for food or dime
Not food not a dime, but sadist's stone,
His stomach rumbles, he rummages his bundle of rags
A rotten banana peel, his lunch it makes
Moons counted, a mother, like any other
Got a sweet product of her womb, kissed like other
She had loved him, yes, a bundle of joy he was.
Powers, the times, the earth it would be drenched, her tears,
Sight of her son, her soul sinks.
Charles Jagongo Ogola
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mad-man-once-a-mother-s-love/
