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Child’s Play #poetry #ebola #children




The number of people

remaining in my family

who are alive


days ago they buried  mother

all I saw was a bag

no one her age has survived


dead trees  left of my village

warning of departed spirits

the only voices you hear


Down the hallway, behind closed doors

you will find a ward of untended people

laying in their own waste I fear


Is the age I was at my last birthday

no one knows if I will see my sixth

Does anyone care if I die?


 I was sickened to read about the treatment of dying men, women and children at ground zero for Ebola. Half a year ago, the CDC and WHO excused away a virus that killed 70-90% of it’s victims. When isolation could have kept the death toll in the 100s, commerce took precedence. The lack of action and ambivalence has resulted in unnecessary death and disaster in West Africa.

22 thoughts on “Child’s Play #poetry #ebola #children

  1. I write from my heart about these people. I spent a childhood and early adulthood longing and trying to get to this world to offer my feeble skills. Every door shut or remained barred. I have been to many worlds but West Africa was always the first choice. But they cannot hold doors against the tears that wash my eyes and heart…


      1. We have friends in Africa, though not the Liberia area. However, they have been affected by malaria, AIDS, childbirth mortality rates, war, and many other afflictions. I surely pray for all of those who suffer so greatly.


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