We stand high and dry,
strumming strings of sweat
as we watch ourselves washed
away again
in tropical tears of winter floods.
We stand awash in dust of
promises
as our values tumble down,
free fall
under the weight of alien
words, and
our disfigured remnants cower
in cage of debts.
We stand frozen in the hot air
of another election
cramp-pain,
holding our breaths in
confused agony,
silent,…..waiting for the next
con man in local suit and foreign tie.
We stand high and dry,
humming our own dirge,
praying for any release
from this slow alien death.
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