The Cataclysm Poem by yakubu abukari n

Disturbing dreams of difficult days ahead I have
Days of trials and tribulations
Strife and sorrow
If these visions are a premonition what do they portend?
Like the ocean my ordeal seems to have no end
The content of my thoughts
The memories I have fought
Those of rot that I have sought
To lock up in a well-guarded fort
Seem to me the source of my sleepless nights
Although I have a pitiful past as substrate
And a bleak future filled with a forecast of fearful fates
I know my present is not at all a hopeless case
And even my future I can recreate to make a better place
Knowing that triumph will come based on “what is”
Not on “what was” or ‘what will be’
At least for the bad part I foresee
That in the end the verdict will read “not guilty”
That the jury will be unanimous in their decision and I’ll be free
To sit in my settee, cross my legs and sip my cup of tea
Or rewrite the scripts of my history
Inundates my pot of misfortunes half-filled
With hope: hope with which worried farmers, their barren lands, till