Ruins

What becomes of a failed state?

Does its might like Rome become a museum
admired for the glory of its past?
Or does it die of vice in the hands of scoundrels
who limits Liberty to increase their share
of the pie that they steal from the wretched?

Does its stink of Injustice leave you
pondering why our sovereign is worse than any other?
Or is the triumphs of reason beyond us –
believing ourselves ineffectual, benumbed
to influence the outcome, we desire for our children?

A failed state is only the beginning of the reckoning;
a cataclysm – is what happens afterward
Oh, nevermind where you’re from – North, East, West, or South.
You and I are the ruins.

Copyright © Ugo Nkwoala | Spilledwoords.org | 2020

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