Let My People Go

Bombs rain down from up ahead,

Over 14 million dead.

Children weep and parents cry,

How many more they know shall die.

The boats, they say, shall save our lives,

Are doomed by many, to sink or capsize.

“This situation gets worse each day,

Lord send our savior,” my people pray.

Haven’t my people suffered enough?

Have you not seen them in blood and sweat?

Has not their suffering opened up your eyes?

Have you not witnessed their untimely demise?

Down under, beneath the ground,

No one dares to make a sound.

Orphans lie with no tears in their eyes,

For atrophied their eyes are; no tears to cry.

There is a woman, pawing through the rubble,

Calling a name, quiet and subtle.

Hers is a story many have told,

Of family members, whose death we can’t hold.

Haven’t my people suffered enough?

Have you not seen their sorrow, and death?

Has not their torture made you to see?

Have you not listened to all of their pleas?

Pity my people the orphans the poor.

Pity my people for they are no more.

Theirs is a story that must have an end;

For if it begins, a close must descend.

Do not let my people die with no hope.

Do not let my people live with no home.

Do not let my people pray with no peace.

Do not let my people fear for their ease.

Haven’t my people suffered enough?

Is it not time to let them go?

Is it not time to let them know?

Let them know, the time, has come to go home?