AIDS in Africa


The night hums the music of death,
the day rattles with the cracked voice of anguish,
and even the brave are treading
lightly on the ground,
looking back over their shoulders.

Everyday the church bell tolls
for the burial of another victim.
The places that used to be a haven
for folklores and moonlight tales
have now turned into graveyards.

The streets that used to ripple with joy
are now flooded with rivers of tears,
tears of hurting spouses, parents,
brothers, sisters and friends,
tears of a village of mourners
whose eyes shun the rising sun,
whose ears no longer hear
the music of the rain,
whose hearts no longer
feel the nudge of hope,
whose souls have become a desert land:
hot, dry and barren.

Sorrow has split and sliced the face of Africa.
AIDS has left its ugly marks on her face
and now her morning sky
is filled with gloom.

Still, everyday, the hungry face
of AIDS stares eagerly into the streets
dangling its deadly wares,
and looking for company,
for another soul willing
to gamble his or her life
for a few minutes of pleasure.

2010.George MacLean Akurunwa