End of an Era | Vivien Gbandi

Superior to our lumped hard sand
lies a free-spirited moon
far from all the world’s troubles
giving a laconic smirk of laughter.
Why did you not carry us
away from grief and despair?
For now we eat from our feet
and drink from our necks.
Our children know no mercy
yet our ancestors are free
our parents weak and tired
yet we ourselves are bare.
Oh, curse you wicked moon
for even the sun agglutinates our sufferings
compelled to tell when chores begin
compelled to reveal the dark surface that lies beneath us all.
But don’t you worry
for you will rue the day you showed yourself beyond our reach
revenge is for those who have nothing but hate
filling them up with schemes and plans.
For now we lie here trapped
away from the breeze that visits you
yet you so far from the torture that beats us
our day shall come moon. Our day shall come.