When the sky played the rain-song
And the showers danced with you,
I remember the rhythm and the tune,
The whirring waltz which lulled my eyes to sleep.
These woes of war belabour sleep.
When you washed your dark-brown skin,
I smelled your spray of earth-perfume,
But now the scent of smouldering human flesh.
Your forests are scorched.
Your fauna crushed.
Your cheerful twigs on the bush-road edge,
Whose playful sprinkle washed my head,
Are all dead, now weevil’s bed.
Tom Cauuray was one of Sierra Leone’s foremost writers, intellectuasls, and adventurers. Forced to flee during the war, the poem was written upon his return to the country. Cauuray died in Sierra Leone in 2009.