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Years Of The Termites
They have labored and toiled for our tomorrow,
They have been consigned to places
Criminals will promptly repent upon imagining;
Sowing seeds.
Now, God bless their souls.
The seed has grown,
Watered, it seems, by their blood.
The leaves get greener by day,
Enriched by their sweat.
And, slowly, our lips part;
We smile.
The timekeeper came and,
One after the other they slept,
Forever!
New palms went for the reins,
We did not stir much — nothing will happen.
White, brown, cream, yellow, black;
The colors of our teeth;
Would still surface as it had,
The leaves would get greener, now.
The palms with the reins proved us wrong:
The leaves turned brown, yellow, and black.
The river flowed upstream; we shouted.
They have ear problems: they couldn’t hear.
Our teeth had no cause to be exhibited.
Quietly, like angry termites,
They ate the wood on which rests our feet.
Our foot now rests like a leaf in the wind;
The night is suddenly around the comer.
I pray we see you tomorrow.