Please sir stop,
Am only 13 years old,
Am not ready to become a mother,
I have science and math sums to do.

Please fire stop,
If you burn down the hut,
My only skirt goes with you,
And the cold night winds shall have no mercy on my bones.

Please God stop,
This Lord of war from cooking mummy in a pot,
For he madly believes she is a gift to you,
A deity in need of sacrifice.

Please doctor stop,
This sickness of the blood,
I have a 14th birthday to reach, a house to build,
A mummy to pray for and a hope to find….

Any hope if it can, soak up this pool of tears.

Dickson Wasake

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/little-anek-prays/