By Mathew K. Jallow

 

The sad wide-eyed little boy stared listless, oblivious

Blue flies clinging to strings of saliva between his baked lips

Wander if he knows, if he notices, if he cares

Tomorrow they will come take him to grandpa beyond that river

To where, he does not know, does not seem to even care

As his broken mother grieving for the husband she will never see again

Mother looked at the sparrows fly higher and higher up the blue void

Tell my beloved husband to come take me home too she muttered

Tell him to open heavens door, for there I belong with him

For down here, there is nothing left for me on this earth, this sad place

And so heaven is calling me to come home too

 

In the darkness, beads of sweat rolled down his jet-black face

He was tired, only he couldn’t rest, couldn’t stop digging

In the depth of the Kanilai forest, not a sound to hear, eerie noises

His heart was racing inside his chest, and the terror hit him

He showed no fear, yet he had dreamt the end was near for him too

As he thought of his little boy, he said a little prayer of mercy for him

Then in his minds eye, he hugged his beloved wife for the last time

Then masked men in the shadows guns drawn; bang, bang, bang

The young man with big dreams dropped, then a deafening silence

His feet quivered, his eyes rolled backwards, and then quiet

Alas, heaven has called him to come home too

 

And so they die in the dead of night, these young men

Shattered dreams, broken lives and grieving families, everywhere

And in the Kanilai forest where no one dares to ventures, visible signs of death

Disturbed earth betraying fresh graves where new corpses lay forever silent

Across the land, the graves solemnly litter the landscape like moon craters

All men of law enforcement and young soldiers once full of life and hope

They aspired to serve, but others conspired to snuff their innocent lives out

It was not idealism that drove or gave them reason to live, only patriotism

Now, one by one they dropped dying, forever silenced when no one was looking

How many have died, we still don’t know, yet we do care

But, now the heavens above calling them to come home too

 

I could hear the sound of the night silence when they came knocking

I heard their muffled voices as they tip toed on dried grass in the backyard

Mere silhouettes looking like ghosts from the distant past

No time to say goodbye to his child, and barely a glance at his wife

They dragged him through the back door to an unmarked car called “coffin”

Jola men taught the art to kill, to maim, and to own the land, our land

Not a place to hide and peace and tranquility exists only in the mind

I saw the chokehold around his neck as he gasped for breath

And as the life left his body he saw pure evil on his tormentor’s faces

Slowly, within minutes his vision blurred into total darkness

Then, he too answered the heaven's call to come home too

 

This is a hard place to live, this land of ours, this place we call home

Killers loose on the streets and everyone is a target, no one safe

There is no law; there is no order, only the reign of chaos

And there is freedom no more, for yesterday is long gone

Remember when we marched down the street unhindered and unafraid

Jawara ruled the land then and he deferred to the Constitution

Now, free men reduced to slaves, no voices, and no minds of their own

Everyday without fanfare young men vanish, never to return

If this is the life we are condemned to live; then I choose death

As day-by-day, our land is scarred beyond what words can describe

And our young men, our future, answer heavens call to go come too