Zimbabwe 2020 Poem by Terry Dawson

The rains don't come, suns set, suns rise.
The godless land, the cloudless skies -
The tragic farmers have no tears
The four-weeks-wilting crops are theirs.

Brute force reigns, the wicked rule;
The craven rich, the cunning cruel.
A broken bodied, spirit-crushed,
Sullen, angry nation hushed.

The kneaded dough, the rising hour
A smouldering anger turns to power
The risen young, the freedom songs
Toyi-toying youth protesting wrongs.
The streets are thronged, tempest parade -
The tyrants fear the beast they've made! !