Age Of Locust
Poem By Uche Nwanze
We live in an age where the senile is no longer revered.
Indolence and thirst for dirty lucre is the image juvenile hearts crave for.
Sweat and toil no longer deserving of a living wage.
Hunger bites bitterly and rage has enveloped our atmosphere.
Leaders gleefully put those below the ladder on a cage of economic impoverishment.
To the heavens we look up to for a sage who will spring forth like a shoot so our chequered history and beleaguered nation will open a new page.