Ash lay brooding over the horizon
down the continent from cape to cairo.
An interred storm of brown dust rising
echoing the sound of a people’s shout
for light and liberty and the end of drought.
Down the ages, mortared ideologies tumble
‘neath the lash of modern vocalised winds
blowing fiery debris back upon their faces
transforming stone statues into ashen spaces.
Circling higher the winds ascending
lift up the ashes unto the ancestral heavens
crying for benediction with their voices.
Adiabatic shadow is a recompense for choices.