A great town, business-owned,
Everyone is alone,
Glory is gone.
A great town with no dawn,
Life is going down,
Glory is frowning.
A great town with fond memories,
In the pond, Glory's drowning.
Dusk with silence,
Dawn with reliance,
Morning mourning,
Guru's glory groaning.
The cry echoes up the sky,
Dismissed, in the grave,
The brave are lost,
Routing shamba devours decay,
Vultures’ cultured, human assay.
Guru's glory groaning,
Mother murdered, disabled,
Children silenced, girls exploited,
Girls subjugated.
Guru's glory groaning,
Wake up, oh child, the land needs you,
Take up the bows; it is your turn,
Astonish them now.
Surround them with a ukulele,
Seven times with jubilation,
They are entrenched in despair,
One strike is enough.
Cleanse the quivers,
Prepare before dusk.
With venomous smoke,
Send forth locust swarms,
Around the fire, retell the glorious tale,
When the Guru claimed its glory,
The land bleeds white,
Then Peace arrives.
Ayella John Bosco, Writer/Critic/Teacher.
