Hoping for blossoms

My throat is dry

I cannot see anything.

I wish for a drop of water,

That’s all I seek.

 

My farms have dried up,

So have my wells.

My hen’s can’t walk anymore,

They haven’t left their pens.

 

There is no joy in my village

The chirping birds have faded.

The gushing river is now a rocky terrain

Empty land surviving hopelessly.

 

Every pot in every house lies bare

Not one house has seen a decent meal.

Everyone has been praying for a miracle.

The masses await for rain.

 

A minister came by our village yesterday

In a fancy car, with his fancy ways.

He quenched his thirst with

Baseless promises and bottles of cold water.

 

Year after year we see this pain.

We survive this struggle again and again.

Comfort has never been our friend,

Ease is not in our fate.

 

I hope things will change someday,

Our village will be merry once again.

When the rivers will gush

And the birds will chirp anew.

 

I may not be fortunate enough

To behold that day,

But I desire

That my children don’t have to face the same fate.

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