Kemal Ibrahim,
I am a thirteen years old Eritrean!
London, England

A lump of mud, a grain of sand,
Or is there more to it than who owns the land.

May '98 is when the bombings all started,
And the holiday makers unhappily departed,

So the earth has to witness another disaster,
As the violence and crime spreads even faster,
And the two countries now have their second war,
As many more people knock at heavens door.

The family men try but cannot stay,
While their government take these people away,
Earlier than expected young soldiers meet their death,
And for their country it is, they take their very last breath.

Bombing airports from the air, shooting people on the ground,
And you've really got to wonder whether they'll ever be safe and sound,
These people need peace and are at the edge of their seats,
As they anxiously await the next time these countries meet.

When the countries agree there is a sigh of relief,
Then the level of excitement is beyond belief,
Soon rumors of betrayal are being heard,
And sure enough one of the countries goes back on their word.

Now, the war has reached a critical situation,
As the Wayane people resolve to deportation,
The Eritreans then leave without making a stand,
Then end up being a stranger within their own land.

The rage between the two countries grows evermore,
And you start to think it's pure hatred that drove them to this war.
The babies cry, the wives all weep,
And now they all know that they're in it too deep.

Amid the chaos and confusion, where peace and calm is an illusion,
There is a scene of disarray, and still the question remains today,
Of 'Whose land is it anyway?'.

Kemal Ibrahim,
age 13
London, England
Write your comments to kemal.i@mailcity.com