Desert Storm Poem by segun Johnson Ozique

I sat squashed in my guest room
My safe heavenly observation line
Parched in a cubicle that pinched sizes
By the minutes as I grew castrated
Watching people move about in frenzy
In anticipation of what is old, inevitable
Though a stranger; feeling one and thesame
As we awaited the moment of joyous encounter

The head was scotched and burnt
Prior to the rampaging tempest
Then came the cloudburst
Stampede race on desiccated soil
Escorted by crazed larger drops
Like wet slash on parched earth
Natural impediments is made beggared
By season of cheerless and biting vapour