This word has become known to my tongue;
As the tree of my pains greens on its rich soil.
It's the foundation on which the troubles of my family is built-
The educated jobless brother, who I once anchored my hope,
On his bright future.
The sister who the door between her legs, holds our next meal.
The mother who prays death, could cure his sickness;
A sickness that has mocked our failed hospitals.
The Father, whose heart crys watching his son beaten by hunger.
And a child who knows his tomorrow is as bright as a night without a moon.
Daily, the politicians feed our hopes, with their lying tongues.
While their stomachs stinks of our shared patrimony.
How I wish this word will someday twin past tense;
So I can tell my kids that there "was corruption".
So I can smile telling my kids the bitter story;
Story of the evils done by corruption before her death.
(2020)