The nation without a soul II: The lions rule the grassland
The lions kingdom only grows grass
Yea
And the lions leave their kingdom
Yea
The lambs got eaten before they could herd
Yea
The grass is lush and inviting
Yea
Only the unlettered are deceived
Yea
The lions rule this kingdom
Yea
The lions don’t eat grass
Yea
And the deer can’t run fast enough
Yea
And the lions must have their meal
Yea
So the herds get eaten young
Yea
And the lion is the king of the grasslands
and then i left the room
it has grown dark in here
amidst the voices raised
and the claims laid out in print
so i stood up and walked
round this table
from behind the man without a face
covered head to toe with red slips
around the man with the briefcase
that landed with force
and a weary face
I walked round the vultures silently
waiting for the carcass
and the hyenas baring their fangs
I took note of the executioner
standing in a corner with a long ax
and a darker cloak
I walked round the table
and wrote the debts out on the wall
one stroke for money in bags
one line for a life
and a dot for a frown or a smile
The walls filled up
with strokes and lines and dots
and the darkness grew in here
and then I left
through the door that remained open
to look at the lone pigeon
standing in the ledge
together we sat on the ledge
pecking away at the scales on our feet
as the sun came out to dry our wings
i grew wings as the dew fled
and filled my lungs with the throbbing rays
and i left with the pigeon
away from the strokes and lines and dots
and the claimants waiting in the dark room.
I left the room
With the pigeon calling his friends from nearby trees
We all saluting the sun
And gulping the fresh air
Free from the debts and claims
In the dark room getting darker.
Tufia !!
What will the diviner say
As the beads he flung on the mat
Slowly climbed over each other
Settling in pattern of foreboding
The black arrayed against the white
The trained eye seeing the evil
Coiled and waiting to spring
What would the elders scream
When the diviner relays his divination
Of the pattern on his mat
And the portents from the gods
The propitiation that has been asked
A head for a head, a soul for a soul?
What would the young shout
When asked for their portion of the sacrifice
A head for a head, a soul for a soul
A sacrifice to propitiate the gods
For the sins of the elders
Who have invited the diviner
Who cast the divination beans?
What would the earth say
When told of the sacrifice
To come from generation to generation
A head for a head, blood left on the tarmac
A soul for a soul, conscience left in the vaults
The diviner afraid of the truth
Elders afraid of their sins?
Tufia !!
