Monday 26 June 2017

Enmity: The Cry Of A Nation

photo cred: Derek Atkinson 22
Vile creatures who are not even accountable to their own conscience. Put a mirror in front of them to reflect and mend their ways and they descend into narcissism , dazzled and enchanted by their own fangs and the only reflection they make is on the strength of their own poison, their backs turned away from reason.

A viperous brood without any semblance of a moral compass, sucking the life out of my nation while they frantically dance in an orgy with the devil. Crowded on my beloved country's jugular vein like leeches. How can we speak of reforms when corruption is their very nature and has encrusted around their cold hearts forming the reptilian scales that cover them.

For them to thrive the nation has to bleed even those just trying to survive. And for those that survive dark untold horrors lodge in their minds. Such broken spirits who can revive? These vile creatures have cast a shadow over a once beautiful princess and a mother. What language will appeal to such brute beasts who shun the light for theirs is the darkness.

(She is dying, my nation is dying!) Look how those hyenas laugh behind their high walls of wealth and power, the very gains of robbing my people of their future and hope.
(Maybe she is dead because I feel no pulse) Everything has become so lifeless...And decay reigns in the streets where her children lie.
(God will she ever live?) surely these dry bones can live again by your will.

The cries of her children go before the LORD as they cry in their anger and frustrations, constantly and fiercely consuming them. Resort not to the native language of these vipers, the language of blood. For they eagerly yearn for that retort to finally have an excuse to make my Nation their natural habitat and justify their sickening and shameless ways.

Vile creatures depart! depart I say! and let my nation live again in the fullness of her beauty for even as you strangle her, her beauty refuses to die, the hope and light of my people.
Surely these dry bones WILL LIVE AGAIN...
by Simbarashe McNorris Hakata

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