The cats have given way to the lions, which is but normal,
And the dogs have left the hyenas too, which is but normal.
The deluge is feeding the thirsty soil, then drowning it.
Crowds gathered and stuck their eyeballs to the CRTs,
Tuned their ears to the frequencies scrambling out the court
Or council, picking the words apart, indulging in idea sport
And clinging to one hope…the unspoken one, the forbidden one.
Then the judge and justice did the Rocky dance and none won
And the lawyers lied, then bent the truth, and justice died,
While a whole nation bent over in pain and cried.
Never had I seen injustice in justice, or madness in wisdom.
The deluge is so bad that Noah is thinking of making a comeback
To the land he saved once, to save again, to save our pack.
My people have beliefs as full as the Grand Canyon,
They’ve been taught to dream as high as it is high,
And to fear as deep as it is deep.
Their dreams are as colourful as the sand of the Sahara,
While they’d been thought to dream as high as the dunes sigh
And to bear as little fear as slipping down the slip-face.
There was a time they trusted in the might of their minds,
And wrought marvels in Odyssey’s of thought and craft.
The clay bent to the swiftness of the hands, and the iron
Broke to form new ornaments, and the copper caved in to
Adorn their bracelets, amulets, rings, and gold, the gold that
Beckoned loud to danger from the shores, laced royal
Vestments, worshiped the throne and cast the light
Rushing through the windows onto the king’s roof from
The crown. The scholars sang pyramids, monoliths, wrote
Them down on wood, on stones, on plants, in minds, in hearts,
The griots drummed away and the engineer turned down the volume
And it all faded from memory, till all left was silence.
A silence as loud as a pride chasing a million buffaloes
In a 1920s movie. As bland as a rainbow painted as seen
By Andrea Bocelli. My people have lost it all in injustice,
In what lies in the government’s hair: all lice.
And as the air thickens about the future, and nobody cares,
My people wish for the status quo, knowing tomorrow
Will just be another today, just deeper in the burrow.
But everything must end someday, even sorrow.
Fly butterfly, fly. In the past you slugged
Across the wood to catch some leaves.
You painted yourself colours that would shrug
Off the creatures who see only food
When they look at you.
The acid rain beat your coat, like the
Tears you shed for your digested siblings.
But on you went, midrib to midrib,
Waiting for the day you earn your reward.
Gripping the branches, you’d slip and restart
The journey to the green, from the ant-laden ground
Where a bird took one brother then another;
But you never stopped crawling
You’d always hear destiny calling:
“Die, butterfly, die!” And you accepted the cross
So, fly, butterfly,fly!