Walk with me to the Bantaba
and with the canopy from the rising sun
we will sit under the shade of the baobab tree
the tree of life
the tree of sustenance
and we will think
of all the things past and present
of all the things that are born and die
we will look deep inside ourselves
we will look around and between ourselves
and feel the moment
and feel the awe
of what is and what could have been
the inter space between now and our death.
To you
with the mighty army
and thousands of people under your command
your tentacles of terror spread
and fear grips the heart
and send chills down the spine
your master trembles at your feet
be at the mercy of your wicked machinations.
You hold their whimpering voices hostage
prisoners of conscience
harbingers of the season of atonement
they come as a cherubim with the wings of peace
but you mercilessly have
them slaughtered
at the altar of your might and arrogance.
But tomorrow comes
she walks slowly in her stride
she carries in her womb the seeds of discontent
the agony and cries of helplessness today
and she makes a push; an involuntary spasm
and like an innocent child that is born
she renders her judgment to the
world.