This is a dirge I wrote relating yoruba culture in Africa where sovereignty is put upon a sorcerer to define the fate of every nearly born child.
Oh child, oh child, thy days were shorten
got caught up in a somewhat consanguineous trail of events by the gods of the land.
How very sure were the gods that your future was evil
Innocent filled your tender eyes
Left when your leaves were still tender
Murdered in cold blood, all because the gods claimed your future was evil
The first thing I saw was your smile
The last was the tears
In-between was your eyes pleading to give you a freedom of life
But who were we, the gods are sovereign
Their counsel was our comfort even in pains
Oh child, oh child
You are no more, but your last smiles remain alive till date