surplus people

‘tis daybreak at last, such an easy sun shines

on a land tormented by seasons of scar

those decades of rot, so vivid yet far, lay

prostrate and languish on the dusted altar

oh! weep no further you maiden of south

find solemn promise in shackleless bound

delight thy soul in culture and song

‘till thy spirit divineth in angelical sound

though the fields were pillaged - covered with waste

take heed, for the weary heart find salvage and joy,

in the minutes of mercy’s leftover chants

echo’d over plains with zest and buoy

from the bosom of this earth, abandoned

no more, virtue and faith like nectar shall flow

like virgin raindrops, unfamiliar, yet

defiant in the calm of the grim afternoon glow!