Published September 1, 2022
by Isaac Ter-nese Diamond
(Buruku, Benue State, Nigeria)
With swinging bellies ahead of them, mic in hand, they marched to the podium.
Eager to lie, to the same starving and wailing subjects they had lied to just a few years ago, maybe three or four.
A remix they make, of the same old lie they told. A few coins they toss, at the cheerless audience down.
Scramble scramble they went, picking with trembling hands the tossed coins, to settle but the growling of empty stomachs.
The poor man knows, in his bleeding heart, that this too is only but staged drama, he had seen them do this often, especially when they needed the votes.
Promises they made, and it came to naught.
For when he was sick, and crossed streams, to get them herbs, the leader flew overseas, for the same cause. Yet, health was a promise they made, not many years ago.
While his son trekked the miles, and squatted on dusty floors, to learn from unpaid teachers, the leader's son, was flown abroad, for the same cause. Yet, education was a promise they made, not many years ago.
His literate son, who bagged a degree, laboured on the vast farms, till his very back creaked, and naught was done by the leader, who promised them jobs, not many years ago.
Resigned they are, to the will of fate, on their knees they pray for divine rescue, the subjects. They pray and hope, that the divine do for them, what they ought to do for themselves.
For they tell not, the leaders to their face, that they lie, and their promises are void, and so unfit to rule.
They overlook their suffering of years, and their long prayers, for a few coins and some dry bread.
They scramble for the coins, and smile sheepish, and cast their votes and sit to complain, and to pray, and to wait for the next electoral year.
I know, you know, we know, that the leaders are wolves, but what are we, who follow?
My name is Juluku Isaac Nese, I hail from Buruku local government in Benue state of Nigeria. I am a poet, a short story writer and a student. I have passion for literature and the arts and believe strongly that I will be able to help change the world with my art.
This poem is included in Poetry World #4, published in the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
Previously published in Wax International:
Drought and the Woodsmen
by John Horváth Jr
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