Forty-one years, departed;

Unconsciously thought,

We’re off the slavery era,

The abandoned promises,

Remain silent, unabashed;

Lifeless stones constantly laid,

If alive, would have spitted;

Fresh blood, new commitments;

Contemplated I, rays of hope;

Worse than old guards,

Stalking like wild wolves,

Bitterly hated but survive, 

Yet, we un-movingly talk;

The cash cast, politically;

Intelligently, we’ve right off;

Democracy compromised!

I wander around and weary,

I’ll wrap up my poem,

Lest it rains, awful omen befalls;

God save our land.

Sonny L Khyriem 

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