No more of patience: A poem 

We could be written off with the writing on the wall 

We could be great towers, but no tower stands so tall 

to reach to the skies, when the bird of sacrifice dies 

in gusts of rancour and bitterness, as ugly reality flies 

We could count a million years in only one lifetime 

where we hid the countless tears, that were all too sublime 

We thought we would survive the tricky mountains that we had to climb 

But now, I want to take the passage back to the place I can call mine 

The toil was done, yet we took the gun, expenses were not defrayed 

I had no choice with patience terminally lost with waiting, I’m afraid 

I can’t wait a day more than sixty-one, for the promise that was made 

And you can’t expect that my self-respect can always be waylaid 

I am worn out, laid bare; all this care no more to eagerly share 

And with the ghost of a former self, you can me compare 

These words are few for apologies, yet I no longer dare 

to wrestle with contemporary powers, fighting tigers in their lair