Whose fault is it?

Their fathers are never around

They’ve gone out in search

Of greener pastures and water

And not bothered about home.

Their mothers tend the dying fire,

Just to keep it alive and burning

To make sure they don’t die yet;

To make sure they live another day.

Their neighbours too, are busy,

They must mine their own fields;

Or they lose their own businesses

So they don’t have their time too.

But these ones are left unattended to,

They wander and sometimes forget home

Their minds are not in tune with the present;

They only want to venture into the calling world

Whose fault is it if they blunder?

Whose fault I ask you fellow brethren?

Is it of their fathers who searched

For better things and a new horizon?

Whose fault is it if they become a burden?

Whose fault I ask you again fellow brethren?

Is it of their mothers who kept the fire burning

Just to make them live for one more day?

Whose fault is it if they can’t tend others?

Whose fault I ask you fellow brethren?

Is it of their neighbors’ who are careful

Enough to save themselves undue troubles?

ATIBA FESTUS

atiba_festus@yahoo.com

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