Ghanaian Girl

I saw her coming back,
Red-smocked urchin riddled with the dew of false promise,
Beaming as she spoke of bright tomorrows.
Couldn’t bring myself to tell her of the sorrows
That waited to strike us down.

Yes, we’ve been happy,
In moments stolen after work sharing dreams spawned by their lies.
She believed them, is believing still.
Yet, I fight to find the will
To raise my head each day.

They have our hope hostage,
Its holy nature yoked to their greed, deceiving us daily.
They shout to us often of pay rises,
Promising rewards and great surprises,
If only we gave more.

I hate to leave my child.
Some uncle’s wife is struggling to cope with the village young.
When she first bleeds I will be here,
I cannot know another year
In separation from my light.

Last month people came from Europe,
They saw their new school, fresh water and underprivileged smiles.
Such self-congratulation! Such effervescence!
I will not assuage collective conscience
With demeaning thanksgiving.

We yet have our dignity.
We know great honour and pride in the quiet suffering of our duty.
(Do you think He will stop the pain?
Will He pause in his great work to explain
Why I was singled out?)