Seasons Poem by Emmanuel Arunee Mwanza

Where are those gray haired days?
Days that families were united in smiles
Whilst enjoying the sweetness of the cool breezes
Staring the camouflage of the natural seasons
But now, dead and buried so those days are

O dear world, what happened?
Then, when the dark engulfed the day, kids could go out to play
In the country, it was songs as people run with ploughs
As waters poured from the heavens,
Darkness was the assurance
Today, it’s just history, so where are those seasons?

Today’s age, tank tremors and quakes have replaced the earth quakes
Kids hide when it’s dark in the day, as sirens alarm enemy birds in the air
Ploughs now lie on the grounds, riffles have taken their place
It now rains bullets and avalanches of bombs,
O where are those seasons families smiled?

Should we say it is a new era?
Symbolized by the reign of violence and terror?
Is it a new world order where, thoughts are on budgeting of armory?
How about budgeting for the various diseases’ cures that people lack?
Instead you, build the levelers of hospitals
In so doing, leaving people helpless….
Then, you close your eyes? Don’t but look!

There! Rises the fountain of the river of blood
Just down that stream, there is flow of tears
As little mountains, whose underneath hide peoples carcasses, stand everywhere
The once fleshy air, stenches death and hunger
It’s too dirty to breathe, and yet it just can’t stop to barrage man made hail
Where are those peaceful seasons?

If only we were to hold those grey haired days tight,
If only it was possible to predict
Tech-education could really get us civilized for real
And hunger, wars we could have ended
And so, we could see signatures of happiness on people’s faces
With food to eat, and medicines to use
Those are the seasons that I cry for, O mother earth!