SONG FOR AFRICA (by Fr. Albert Jungers)
Impaled upon the sharp horns of the crescent moonWith no star to indicate the Eid
We await the dawn that never seems to come.
In the shadow of the cross
Impaled on the horns of the crescent moon
We stand transfixed and crucified.
Our fast unbroken, unsatisfied.
Who will pour the oil that I may cook my meagre corn?