A Letter To Mr. President Poem by Imafidon Mac Henry

Dear Sir,
never you shut your ears
to the loud silences
of the Lazarus sprawled by your gate
but hearken, you are up on
the ladder because he had a wrong!
in us all, a million Lazaruses flicker:
the seas of tears clouding eyes
which sought to reach the moon,
the skeleton of our thatches
robbed of life, of blood
when cows locked horns in alien battlefields,
are the Lazaruses sprawled
by your gate.

Never fart fat lies
down our moonlit cubicles
for they build thicker tumors
of regrets in our hearts
but fight on,
fight for the Lazarus sprawling,
fight that the dry throats and scorched gullets
find the ever flowing waters
in green-painted valleys;
fight the war of the innocent
shrouded by the guilt of circumstances,
the war of the free
convicted for living a free-bound life.