Problems make man to desert the home
Painfully leaving his woman behind
Some-times the reverse painlessly reign
Women in their freedom also migrate
Away from the bombs and drones of life
From pangs of hunger and claws of poverty
And agonies of marriage under terror of man
Man makes money to fuel the governments
They both make man a choice-less migrant
Ruefully fleeing away from dignity at home
Be it in the north, west or the all of Africa
Migrants dare cross the euro-tunnel to Europe
In swashbuckling faith for heaven at destine
The utopian Paradise in which money can flow
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And the riches can flow like the Nile waters
Into the house of a refuge the black immigrant
Faith so punctured with bitter truth of the moment
For all gods of poverty will follow you to Europe
They will cross the tunnels with spiritual mighty
They stow away after you in an art of the imp
Sleuthing you to Europe with a gift of shame
Giving you and I nothing but a dystopian text
For us to read in arms and sing Ode to migrants
We better stay back and fight poverty as one
We better join hands to fight misrule as one. Out of our motherlands the gift from God
- By Alexander Khamala Opicho
Lodwar