Year after year of rains
as victims they fell
crying for shelter and succour
as they thought their woes
won’t unaddressed go
when they have already
made the hands of the party
they favoured while giving
it the throne for years
over which they thought
they had heard the words
well enough not to be confused
that their woes would go
with a rain of days that
would be flooded with
good all round that for
centuries they had not seen
under colonial rule and the rule
that has been there as
transfer of chair and chance and
words continue term to term
when elections come
and words rain and hope rains
and a future at hand calls them
to drench in the promises now
to be washed away to new destinies
with powerful floods of actions
of all sorts they stand confused
to brand those good or bad
or just shadows that whirl
and vanish over deserts
when the sun is strong
and the birds flying low
searching for perches
that are never at hand
in gloom gather strong
and in whispers call others
to rally fast and make
worlds deliver the promised
land of milk and honey.
