Freedom Train, by Outspoken (Zimbabwe)

Still inside the station waiting on the freedom train
Its inspector came to check on our tickets, if we had paid
Finally my people shall be home amongst their relatives and peers
They could hardly wait to see the city horizon slowly disappear into the distance
It was one train with many classes. The luxurious was the first.
Then came the ‘second-class citizen’, then the ‘economy’ that is the worst
Not because of its occupants, but mainly their conditions
Where they were packed like animals, sweating like the steam engines
“All aboard!” that was freedom's last call
the destination was ‘Democracy’ , equality for all, but a few.
The few being the masses in the last
that were disposable to benefit the upper class
“tickets, tickets please! Amai you did not pay!”
“do you think you are going to get a free ride on the freedom train?”
He can clearly see that she is sick and in need of urgent assistance
“Amai, I am not a doctor, all I want from you is your ticket!”
So another passenger dies, for she could not afford
the medication for her ailments, so she succumbed to her sores.
Across the masses gathered was the hovering of pain.
Another ONE of US departed from the freedom train.
Mountains rolled and valleys passed the few that had the view
aboard this runaway train of passengers without a crew, but the inspector.
They huddled praying ‘justice would prevail’
but lived within the LAWS of physics where they were destined to derail.
A pregnant mother squirmed as her water broke in panic.
‘HOPE’ was her unborn daughter, but her birth was none but tragic.
She only saw the light of day minutes before the crash-
sucked back into a darkness with radiance everlasting.
If only the inspector started checking on the drivers,
there wouldn’t be this ugly scene of checking on survivors.
18 April 1980 was the day we left the station
on the freedom train, but still haven’t reached our destination…

FREEDOM

Outspoken on MySpace / Posted by Nomadic Wax