January 25, 2011
Adom Mosi once loved to trot
Among the tall grass, yellow and hot.
He wrestled with elephants and wasn’t afraid,
Though terrified daily, his mother he made.
He played with his siblings out in the bush,
Back and forth on the plains in a wagon he’d push.
He lived in sheer bliss from his birth to age ten,
Until the day his mother screamed, “Here come the men!”
Adom Mosi wailed as they pried him away
From his fighting mother who cried as she prayed.
He was hit from all sides and shoved in tan pants,
Given a jacket, a helmet, and taught frightful chants.
He learned over time to do as commanded,
To stand straight, to be tough, and fire left-handed.
He could not go back home, could never return
To the field where a sun-drenched wagon lay to burn.
Adom Mosi–a boy once never in fear–
Now lives in it daily, but does not shed a tear.
And while miles and mindsets set us apart,
We forget we and Adom really share the same heart.