The Weed - Poem by Pius Didier
This unveils the generations gone
Of the weed that sprung amongst us
Our land was as rich as Croesus,
With cutoffs clean without blemish.
Pass this to the generations hereafter,
The seeds and weed are intruders,
They sprung amongst the sorghum,
And illusorily expanded apart.
Our voices to excavate were futile,
Until we solemnly faded dreaming,
Uphold the established blow,
And proon their prompt attempts to grow,
For weed is an untimely squirrel.
Cultivate our great land with optimism,
Impaling their roots over,
Drape the soils over and over,
Plant a levee on it then creep,
Our great land.
Our thick mud.
Our sieved sand.
Cleanse it of the weed
For there lays our creed…
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