We Watch The Tide Poem by Tony Adah

All fingers, they say are not equal
While fate puts equal fingers in some
Others have a stump wrist
We watch the tide
We sit and watch
Dung Beatles metamorphose
They leave the dingy dungs
Into manicured gardens;
They are in the national assembly
But we are in a solemn assembly.
They drink bottled water
Which they wear in their armpits
We drink pure water or take solace
From the puddles on our highways
Still we drank from the same stream
Where they could hardly reach the
Stream before us.
Today we watch them become weevils
Taking charge of our silos
Turn them into powdery stuff
The silos dry up into dust
What's our own in this farm when
Our stomachs get glued to our spines?
Still we watch helplessly the talons
Of the hawks picking the hungry chicks into the lonesome sky
We watch as if we admire our own
Sentence into instalmental death
In our own land flowing
With milk and honey.