Our Moses

Take me high 
On the mountain top
Please do and do
Before this wind leads me down.

Life oh life,
Joy today, sorrow tomorrow.
That the village people get the credit.
Non knows when to be freed from

This dungeon we're made to be.
Even the sacred is not a place of rest.
Yet we all hope to see the better days
When our lads are in glorious cannabis

And aged in bourbon for joy to lay.
Dear Divine,
Arise to our aid 
For this hell is too hot to bear

Has your second coming come and gone?
No, I know it's yet to come
What then will be the fate of sinners
That are resident here at your coming

Send to us now our Moses
Not as one we made in power in foolishness.
Before we're consumed by hunger.



© olorunleke olorode
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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