Published May 15th, 2024
by Blessing Oziama
I remember that once,
The world was new and ripe and full
Of all things beautiful.
We smiled at the clear expanding spaces
We danced in the breezes
We kissed the youthful, hallowed ground.
We stood tall and began the work
That would bring the harvest of our dreams,
The decadent fruit of success in its time.
All is dried up now
Burnt away under the unyielding heat
Of the once beaming sun
Transformed into punishing flames,
A pouring baptism of fire!
Where are the clouds?
Where have the loving breezes gone?
Where are those architects of good fortune
Who promised a harvest to match
All our sweat, all our toil?
They are gone with the morning dew,
with the unsettling mists of early day.
Now, we break under the strain of waiting
For rain. Even the littlest drops
to bring an end to our sorrows.
By the empty water holes and muddy riverbeds
in the hot dry days and cool dry nights,
time drags its loathsome burden
over our hearts, and our earth.
Now we hear a ringing far away
there is a playful gathering of deep grey
at the edge of the world.
We want everything good to come –
our hearts are full.
Let the rains come soon.
About the Poet
Blessing Oziama resides in Lagos, Lagos State, Nigeria.
Read the poet's biography on Blessing Oziama's Artist Page.
This poem is included in Comet #2, published in the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
Previously published in Africa Poetry Magazine:
Don't Remind Me
by Nixon Mateulah
Africa Poetry Magazine is part of the Wax Poetry and Art Network.
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- Visit the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
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