Powers-that-be

 What would you have me do?

Do you want me to speak or be mute?

Do you want meto fight or stay put?

Would you like the lie or the truth?

You say I have the right to speak, do I really?

May I climb up to this stage, amplify my voice and yell, “you’re a bloody liar”?

May I please look you in the eye and say I hate you?

I hate you for your greed. I hate you for your two-facedness

You stood regal and tall in the traditional attire that made us think you were a man of the people

And you said to us, “I am different”

We believed you, we desperately wanted to

But you lied, you shoved our hopes right back in our faces. I don’t like you

You came down to our streets looked at the tangle of poverty and neglect. You shook your head, lamented at the disgrace and you made a tearful speech.

We said to each other “look! Do you see how he is touched? This one feels what we’re going through”

With our thumbs we perfected our doom.

You raped our minds and stole our hope.

We tried to speak and you shushed us with undeserved violence.

You turned us into zombies, “...whatever they say, whatever they want...”

I’d go on, but you know what you’ve done.

Of course you don’t want to hear all of that

You want me to dance in the street thanking you for building one road when you could have built ten

You want praise for increasing our wages by 2% and cost of living by 20

You want me to say you did well when you sent my mother out of her market stall and doubled the rent because the market has a new signpost

You want me to thank you for the tuition fees my brother can’t afford; after all, the school has a fresh coat of paint

You want me to lie in the face of my pain and so I won’t say a word.

I won’t say a word because if I speak now, I might never speak again.

I will stay these anxious horses, but not for long.