THE PEOPLE’S HOPE
He was just a drop of water in the ocean.
But he caused ripples that spread out,
Circle after circle after circle.
From the little help he rendered the old;
The things he taught -the way of peace.
The ripple spread, circle after circle after circle;
The circle got bigger and wider.
He filled a hole in our hearts,
A yawning emptiness, our longing for something that’s missing.
Slowing and gradually, like an incoming tide,
Hope crept like water into the water-starved lands that were our hearts.
We began to see the life in our deaths,
For he gave death life with his gesticulations.
We saw freshness in rottenness,
For the peace of which he spoke sprang from violence.
In the cage of our doldrum existence
We sang freedom, for it was felt where ever he went.
He spoke of freedom from oppression,
Oppression we get from ourselves.
Gradually, this ripple became a wave,
This wave a storm, till he was noticed.
He was our hope, the people’s hope;
A mustard seed planted on the fecund soil of expectation;
The rain in the drought, the calm in the tempest.
We were ready to pull at the pillars of the world for him.
But he left without a word, without us knowing.
Our hope came crashing down like a pack of cards.
It became an echo: fainter and fainter and fainter,
Till hope became a name, a name we wrapped our minds insanely about.