Desert Wall 42

(Written October 20, 2011)

A desert wall falls.
Its last stand mauled.
Progress no more to stall in narrative’s hall.

A desert wall falls.
Sanctioned in the halls of power,
its influence is now a ruined tower.

A desert wall falls.
The manner appalled us all.
Still wells the oil of toil.
It torrents through the gaping breach.
All recall is beyond reach in the history now beached.
The gold dinar’s shine leached, forever out of reach.

At a desert dam a wall falls.
Fading echoes scribe the walls, halls and market stalls,
silence in a thickly hanging pall.
Freedom’s creep is a quickening crawl.
Sand bagged in multi tribal political scrawl.
A narrative Wadi set in pawls.

A desert wall falls.
The voices of multi tribal guns now free,
they speak their own soliloquy spree.
Not assuaged is the nation’s wail.
Its resources balance in the scales.

In site is a new history’s trail.
Destiny is the course to sail.
Their journey’s trials to be unfurled,
the nations hope is a hostage pearl.
Black gold is the valued prize in oil and African bodies.
They weigh in the assayer’s global lobby.
Freedom is not a part time jobby nor a hobby.

The multi tribal masses stand at the nation’s helm.
Theirs to pilot in hope and not be overwhelmed.
Their freedom is the new border to hem.
In this desert a wall once stood. It stood for them.
A gold African dinar and CB the proffered anthem,
now with the linchpin gone, both out of tandem.