Her vision’s scrubland
Of out-of-work heroes

Who yesterday a country won

And today poverty tasted

And some to the hills hurried their thirst

And others to arson and blasphemy

Waving down tourists and buses

Unleashing havoc no tongue can tell –

Her vision’s Droughtstricken acres

Of lean harried squatters

And fat pompous armed overlords

Touching to torch the makeshift shelters

Heading to magistrate and village court

The most vulnerable and hungry of citizens –

Her vision’s Drought Relief graintsrucks

Vanished into thin air between departure point

And expectant destination –

In despair she’s found in beerhalls

And shebeens, by the roadside

And in brothels: selling the last

Bits and pieces of her soured vision.