I wrote this poem while thinking about babies born with HIV infection and that die from AIDs through no fault of their own.
A baby boy from the African plains
is laying in the dirt dying of AIDs.
His mother is a village prostitute.
Many men abuse her for selfish use.
A child shall not die for the iniquities of its father.
Why have you allowed him to be infected heavenly Father?
Straying from nature I deserved to be diseased,
but You have spared me and Your mercies haven’t ceased.
The son of the black woman has made no choices of his own
and very soon he’ll pass away and leave nothing but bare bones.
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