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DRINK OF MY CUP.

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He who drinks of my cup
Drinks not of sweet milk nor chocolate,
Those which the western kids ate;
For my plight knows not
its sweet taste

He who drinks of my cup
Drinks not of grape juice nor fine wine,
Those which the western kids use to dine;
For pestilence has rid my land
of such vines.

He who drinks of my cup
Drinks of the tears of the African child,
those flowing from the streams of his heart,
Gushing from the windows of his soul;
He so tender and mild;
Still longing to be made whole.

He who drinks of my cup
Drinks of the fears of the African child,
The blood dripping from his murdered dreams,
The steam of anguish,
And the sweat of agony;
A tale sultry to the lips;
A bitter story forever remaining his,
Forever for keeps.

 

by Increase Nathaniel

Picture Source: http://www.charitywater.org/blog/category/private/page/135/

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