Did not your fathers before your father
leave a tale in your household?
Did you not ever have any relation
to guide you, children who come from
that lineage in the clan?
My parents before me,
learned a thing or two from
those before them, and they have used these
words to guide us.
You do not dance without drums;
it is the drum beats that guide
your steps to the dance.
My household do not dance when the
drummers are not around and so,
we find it strange that you have decided
to take over the clan in a manner unknown to us.
Our voices have groan hoarse
from crying and our tear ducts
have started drying up, because
you have refused to listen to our cries.
what kind of man are you?
if you have lost your sight,
have you also lost your hearing?
can't you smell the putrefied
carcasses of those of us who have died
from hunger and thirst?
Why would you continue to take
us through this arduous dance that
have no drum beats to guide us?
Topic(s) of this poem: political