Obinna Ezeike Poet Free verse

Hope

we toil and labour for days on end
but when we ask for our labour's due
our leaders tell us to work some more
and trust them to keep our wealth
 
we till the earth in the scorching sun
our muscles ache, our stomachs bite
but our calloused hands refuse to rest
for ourwages are safely kept
 
i hear grandad is on his dying bed
and i walk many miles to pay respect
my tearducts open like heaven's rain
when i see grandad all bones and hair
 
with his last effort before the end
he says,'cry not for me, i choose death
cry for wages that will never come
i am still told to wait for mine'

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