The last line of Eileen's poem of "Morality and Marriage Dying" inspired me to write this poem to show how these two M's and many more have already been killed at this end. I think the two stories are different but still I find the last line strong enough to push me write this. I try to portray the situation of the Somalis who have made deviations from the normal path of morality and sound ethics of survivl as a result of the war. People have lost everything they knew to be good and are not getting any emotional support to cope with the situation. So many of them have lost hope over and are adjusting themselves to the new situation by accepting bad things as being good. It is like a tree which used to bear sweet fruits but, with the bitterness of time, has changed the taste of its fruits or has transformed some of its leaves into thorns as a way of reducing transpiration or losing docility to become aggressive to a hostile environment. When everything you knew to be good is destroyed you automatically become blind and shall be guided by the whistle of the raging winds of terror and anarchy. You sometimes seek help from where you can never get any support. You can be likened to a fisherman in his futile attempt to sail in the desert wishing to catch some fish from under the sand.

In my country many good things have died
People have certainly lost sight with life
They have been driven to margins of insanity
They have adapted anti-social behaviors
That is the only way they wish to socialize

In my country many good things have died
People have certainly seen their hope shattered
They have been driven to margins of despair
They are walking on the shadows of danger
That is the only way they wish to get
safety

In my country many good things have died
People have certainly got shaken in the base
They have been driven to the margins of madness
They are leaning on *BOOC BOOC sticks
That is the only way they wish to regain balance



N.B
BOOC BOOC is a Somali shrub plantation grown on the sandy streets of Mogadishu. It has long stiks which break into two halves soon as you touch them. Suppose these booc booc trees are tribhalism do you think they will ever take us anywhere. No. They can only take us to where man started life in the ancient primitive ages. Oh When everything good is killed!