Sedoka
A poem by Rachelle David
Winds
whistled through night
As the
determined folk crept
They would
fight for their homeland
The
suppressors laughed
They knew
the weak folk were doomed
Few now
assist those fighters
Are battles
hopeless?
The attempts
may never end
Someday the
strong-willed shall win
Triumphant,
hope reaps
Finally
where they belong,
Safely and
agreeably
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