Under the mud
lies a smorgasbord of death
in all its forms.

Under the mud
lies a travesty disguised
as democracy.

Under the mud
lies the keys
to death’s kingdom.

Squelch through the mud
in a state of disbelief saying to yourself
this can’t be in the land of milk and honey.

Squelch through the mud
to retrieve the keys
which will open death’s door
and the hands of the living dead
reach out beseechingly
while eerie voices cry out
help us please.

And you say, like refugees these people be
But that can’t be in the land of milk and honey
And the word changes to evacuee.

And you start to wonder what was happening elsewhere
while you were sitting under the liberty tree
and why the tree didn’t have roots strong enough
to protect and cover all the citizenry.



© 2005 Tichaona Chinyelu All Rights Reserved In the Whirlwind