The Tomorrow People
Another long day goes by.
There are no changes in the sky.
Day after day the sun beats down.
Sucking all moisture out of the ground.
It has been 10, or more, years since a good rain.
Will we ever see a good rain? It’s such a pain.
Dust covers everything you can see.
There are shimmering sites all around me.
Down the dusty main street of town
goes all hope. Stomped into the dirty ground.
Nothing moves. There is not a sound.
Just dried, shriveled, relics all around.
Then, there is a wail, as another dies.
Water and meds are in slim supply.
Still,—- a few, try to hang on.
Refusing to give in to that final song.
Buzzards continually circle overhead.
They know that this town is dead.
All that are left pray for a better day.
They pray the drought will go away.
Their tongues are parched and cracked.
They leave the dead right where they’re at.
The energy to bury them has long evaporated.
What little they have left, they keep encapsulated.
Their one goal is just to hang on.
They hope that it won’t be long.
These are the ‘tomorrow people’, today.
They live in tomorrow, not today.
There is only death and starvation here.
Tomorrow, everything is very clear.
There is no dust in the air.
There are crops growing everywhere.
There is water in abundance for all.
There is life, laughter, and plenty for all.
That is how they hang on today.
Thinking of that very day.
When it will rain and make all things better.
They are ready for stormy weather.
In the meantime, just hang on.
Just one drop of water.—– Bring it on.
————————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2015)