On World Humanitarian Day, we pause and pray, For those who toil where shadows sway From refugee camps to flood-ravaged land, Where aid workers stretch a weary hand.
In war zones where bombs are loud and clear They brave the chaos, face the fear, With statistics that we cannot ignore: Every day, three human lives are no more.
We don cry tire As blood strangles our duckling birds And pressure suffocates our suckling children , Ohh, we must retreat and retire.
For every dollar or franc we give to aid A thousand more are needed, unpaid, The hungry cry while we feast in grand halls, While famine takes root, and hunger calls.
From the shelters of the rich and secure, To the slums where survival’s unsure, We count our blessings with tepid cheer, Yet the world’s most desperate still persevere.
Every three seconds, a child’s last breathe And we share memes about "first-world" stress, In the balance of charity, it's clear and true The human cost is high, and so must we renew.
So as we mark this day with awareness and cries, Remember, the world needs more than our "likes," For in the face of crisis and plight so grand, Our empathy should take a firmer stand.
The change we seek begins with you and me So , produce the good fruits like an apple tree And feed billions of the marginalized,oppressed, suppressed While the battered recognize the revival for their survival.
Emiliene Atabong