There’s no other to grieve your
lost hope,
It’s for you to face and cope;
With life’s various despairs by
yourself alone,
And alone must, wrestle and
have it won;
Family would smile with you but
for a moment,
And no friend could vouchsafe
for you on Day of Judgement;
For so many will come ’round
you for embrace,
Yet on your own you must ride
on life’s every chase;
Though we rejoice in hope on
every new morrow,
One couldn’t care less for his
own brother’s sorrow!
Born in Mogadishu, Somalia, the poet was raised in a politically prominent family; yet in his early teens, the poet and his family emigrated to the United States, where the poet lived for nearly two decades. The poet now lives in his land of birth and works as a freelance journalist and writer. He feels a particular attachment to John Keats and Percy Shelley for their vehement opposition to the inhumane effects on ordinary people such as the consequences of industrial development in their lifetimes–and reminds us that technological progress today does the same: ‘Weep, for the world is wrong!’ (Percy Shelley, “Dirge”)