The Windmill Poem by Kojo Owusu

The stench
Of prematurely tired skins
And rotten sighs
Of rotten souls
Assailed us as
We squeezed through
The dense crowd –
We could here moans and groans
Emerging silently
From their decayed hearts
Curses and imprecations
Of disillusioned men
Destroyed souls
Who sees nothing but emptiness
Argument here and there
Of promises that has
Not being fulfilled
And never would be fulfilled
We squeezed through
The thick crowd
Of thugs
Fanatics
Sycophants

We squeezed our way
Through the sweating lots
Our clothes and feet were dirty
Then we came across a section
Of the despairing crowd
Shouting triumphantly
That they have been
Delivered from the talons
Of an eagle.
That things will be better
We have suffered
We have been in hell
But now we are free again
We can walk
And talk
Without fear
They roared and chanted happiness
They were in ecstatic delirium

Then our leader in tatters
Not pessimism trapping his soul
Or cynicism gnawing at his heart
Said to us

Do you remember when these
People roared and raged for a savior
Now the devil is even better
Than the savior who rescued them
These same people are against
The leader they cried for
They say he has done worse
Than all his predecessors
And now a new hero
Have emerged to end
All troubles, pains.

But you see this windmill
Now it is at rest
It is at rest because
The wind is not blowing
And women and children
Can even touch it
But a time will come
That a fierce windstorm
Will strike and everything
Will turn upside down.