Prisoners Of Revolution Poem by Ndina Kamaro Muofhe

The land we belong to
Here, became our prison
Nothing of a new essence
But fingers cross paths
Such is the endless blame game

Mandela had the rainbow planned
It needed more colors to be painted
To appeal to the greater whole
It stood there unfinished
Leaders now swim on train of bitter gravy

Change is the new bondage
Vendettas so personal
Right there, on political arena
Like a comedy on Thursday night
The stage of no permanent friends

The rendezvous is the stomach grumble
To serve is a prophecy not revealed
Minds in material chains
The same that had many killed
Followed by those wrestling for crumbs