I SEE A NEW AGE

I see strange spirits
silent like dead carcasses
of our sleeping ancestors,
begging for blood
to quench punished thirst

…………
Save us from rut,
and the rot of tradition
  slimming away like glaciers
slugging under blight skies

………….
I see the waters breaking
to unite us without aim
of a rejuvenated blame
cast like an evil spell
…………..
What happens,
when the cloud stops sobbing?
What becomes of us,
when land stops yielding
to the strength of ploughs
and romance of harrows?

…………..
I smell a short age
of blood and her subsets,
donated to save today
from mean wages
of ester-years,
paid on a black Friday-
an Easter of wasted stars

………………
What about a morrow
we know nothing of?
We pray for an extension
of this oil-age,
to reduce the tension
branding our name,

to open the torn page

of our finished fame.
………………..

© IYEOMOAN  Ehizogie