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With the ever-burning flame of faith
We cuddle reeds of hope and continue
To chase the elusive blind goddess—
Justice—elusive as tick-tocking time.
Our mended dream catchers—though
Somewhat like kitchen sieves—continue
To weave towards fulfillment:-
Keloid memories of hooded night-riders
Have been replaced with the realities of
Their unsheeted children cursing
Daylight hours with ravaging Mutated
Vampire-like acts of injustice—sucking
Fresh ebony blood of justice—as they
Freely devour our children’s lives.
Indeed, today funerals have become
Weekly sacred gatherings for our kids.
But this is not the end of it all—
Praise be to God—the stake of retribution
Is as of crucible steel, and with tsunamic
Tides of liberation, we shall rise and spill over
Onto the waiting sands of the equitable
Shores of redemption:-
