The harvest had failed

The harvest had failed

the images of starving children moved me to write this

The earth was dry and cracked with pain, the sun she baked the sand.
She gave no shelter, she gave no shade, she burnt the soul of the land.
She torched the hearts of the women, who bore a hopeless child.
For the harvest had failed, the river ran dry, and the women stood and cried.

The camp was cold, the blanket thin, the blackness filled the night.
Despite the moon and the insects song and the flickering firelight.
They sat around the open fire, the past was in their eyes.
For the harvest had failed, the river ran dry, and the women stood and cried.

He planted his field of maize, with an eternal hope.
He prayed for rain, he prayed for sun, but then he couldn’t cope.
And now he’s gone, she’s left alone, she cannot work the field.
For the harvest had failed, the river ran dry, and the women stood and cried.

The women and the children here, they’re all that’s left to grow.
The men have gone, the towns are full, and they will never know,
what’s left behind are broken lives, no hope for life inside.
For the harvest had failed, the river ran dry, and the women stood and cried.

In a land of drought and hunger, it’s women and children first.
The land cries out for labour to cure the women’s thirst.
For without the seed of the working man, the land has lost it’s pride.
For the harvest had failed, the river ran dry, and the women stood and cried.

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