Justice In Auction

We had cried to the scorching sun An expression of youthful forlorn An orchestration to air our needs Peaceful but firm were our deeds Alas! the heralds of her arrival Our mother ! A hope beclouding hopelessness Together we scrambled around her entourage Like wailing babes in need of a mother's massage But our mama had renamed herself as barren And turned deaf to the cries of her expectant children We craved a rescue from our partial darkness Only to be graced with permanent blackness Our only crime was the belief in democracy A misapprehension! A mirage ! A meticulous mockery ! Shots of bullets against our unarmed bodies Battered,bruised and yet rebirthed as hoodlums For where is the future of this shambolic nation If the leaders of tomorrow are perishing today? When shall justice be not portrayed as auction Haggled and bought by only the highest pay? By:Elizabeth O Adams Lizdiamond world of poetry