The Pain Of My Beloved Village Poem by oio ZIGA

The powers threw the village in peech darkness
Just as I thought the ancestral God's might pitty.
But the enchanted clouds rumbled their brag
And the dreaded thunder clapping his disdain
A note of imminent storm
Of whose charge It is.
The fate of the lot
Lies still at the stern feet of the gods.
Finally shall a quiet sack the streets
And the tapping drops of the sky deities
Began poking the people's corrugated pride.
It struck my mind as I stared into oblivion
That surely the gods thrives
Upon the pain of my beloved village.