It’s raining hailstone, mother Nature stoning destruction on her tenants. She is so high on anger an addiction it has become. She sends down pain that is icy cold on their backs. The dilapidated house she sees everywhere. what is left of once her glorious home? The Remnant of spoilt and decay is here to stay. She would not listen to all their pleas, not ever again. How wicked can these children be? Good people should be a reflection of the earth, but definitely not these ones.
It’s earthquake time here and there again. She shook them with all her might. They tremble in fear and kneel in obedience before her. These treacherous beings had maimed and raped all her children so. On broken wings and bended knees, they cut them down anyway. Grown children she lost and can’t conceive again. She way past her prime, the heart is broken she swept in silence. The loneliness is her escape. How can all the strong trees be gone? Good people should be a reflection of the earth, but definitely not these ones.
Tornado she brought on them, now she becomes the evil stepmother. Most strong and violent forms funnel of dust in what seems as if she is filtering the dirt of this world from slipping through. Thunderstorm and heavy wind that uproots the tiniest weeds as it clears the path for a new beginning. Good people should be a reflection of the earth but definitely not these ones.
From her smile, you can feel the scourge of heat, as she tries to hide her pain. Rays of the sun that burns through the skin as black as coal. She cannot help herself from feeling lost. She breathes out the inferno wild and erases every greenfield to ashes. Hunger descends on them, the locust came and feed on all their plants. The lesson she teaches is still not learned a fail generation it is. How can her children turn out this way? Good people should be a reflection of the earth, but definitely not these ones.
It’s flooding season here again. No trees left to hold the rains, gutters too shallow and filled with dirt but their mother care less. She is tired of talking already lost her voice. Their actions are way out of this world she doesn’t know what else to do. She will keep sending her tears on them just to get their attention. She get that’s only when their buckets are full and all their exploit has gone. All their cries are that of the crocodile. She wants to forgive but her heart is full of doubt as they will go back to their old ways. Good people should be a reflection of the earth, but definitely not these ones.
©By Rahima Vandy-Kargbo known as dasalonetiti Rahima