I WILL NOT WAIT
ANANIYA ALICK PONJE
I will not wait for his breath to resignSo that I can curse the activities of his officeHe has to discern the lot before he goes to sleepHe has to be told everything while his eyes are wide open And his expansive ears are perfectly pricked.I will divulge the precision in written terms, songs and chants.So my voice will live onEven after his breath has resignedI can’t wait for him to begin to breathe haltinglyI am safe and sound because I tell the truth Before his breath has resignedI will not look at the setting sunAnd wait for darkness to completely shroud the universeSo that I can enlighten everyone about his hostile managementNo! I will not do thatI will depict his inequities in hours of daylightExclusive of fear of reprisalBecause word dies not in any creationThat is why I will expose his shortfallsSo that he may be an education to othersWho will vie for the position after his breath has resignedI will leave no stone unturnedWhen undressing his veiled activitiesI will amass all the literature and put it on paperAnd I will not ask for his observation or estimationI will not look at his shriveled faceSo that I may be filled with empathyI will revolve my eyes awayAs my pencil will be exploring the departed daysWhen he subjugated me and othersThen I will have no time to stare at his goodiesI will only publish his vicesWhen his breath is still entireAnd I will not wait for his breath to resign.
As I drag myself through the subsequent doorA stench of urine and fresh human shit embraces my tender snout.I long for the milk of human benevolence.I totter across the room, The frosty floor stinging my crazed feetAnd torment my blameless essenceThat hankers for a fresh light windBut they have dug their heels in deep.And I have to die, to be strangled like an atrocious radicalI have to expire like a dogFor a transgression I never committed.Nonetheless, I see a hesitant hand of optimismHanging above the parole catalog where my given name hangs in the balanceBut as the door hinges squeakI glaringly convalesce from my world of infinite hope and wishesFor it was only a figment of the imagination.Could it be another figment of the imaginationAs my eyes that stick out of their socketsSee the manacles of cruelty and belligerenceUnwind gradually and serenely in my facade? Could it be just a fantasyAs my body feels the loftiness of the puny scaffold where I am stuckWith a dreadful lariat around my stripped scarred neck? How I dread to think about my closing stages, A ruthless end fit for dogs, pigs, robbers.But as a gruff voice rasps into my distorted earsTo inform me that final statement has to be said, I sigh through the hushed airWith horror and hesitationThat each conclusion is essential for human providence.Alas! The lasso tightensAnd my body is turning floppy