Poetry: Beneath the rubble

by Cyril James

 

Awake, you dying eagle.

Awake to your long lost pride;

To the tide of foreign waters.

Look back in time

When your virgin charms, as a

Bait, the distant climes called.

Look forward into the future

And match untrammelled into

Peace and glory unspeakable.

Inhale not this strange air ___

It sneezes; sniff out this

Poisoned water ___ it purges.

 

Arise, you dying eaglets

And sing in this ship of doom

A song of hope; that one song

That kept us strong, yes

Before things fell apart

Prove no tool to your brother’s e

n

d

 

You now wash clean the distant

Climes with your folks’ blood?

Ah! You’re such a flowering bloom

Without root.

On the RUBBLE were we better

Eating yam and red oil…

Than now with this drained worms

With dead eggs to our death

Because, power drunk, we hastened

To rise ‘above the rubble’

We crumble here ‘BENEATH the Rubble’

Our hope was just a mirage…


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