Common house rat
Who feigned the lineage of lions
Until History counted his claws
And uncovered a missing fire
An angry wind blew; your phantom mane
Rolled deviously down your shortening neck
You, the King’s slave
Who never stopped thinking
He was the King of Slaves
Then, overreach, the Tyrant’s timeless curse:
You tumbled into twilight, then
The seething purgatory of traitors. . . .
A gentle flame twirls skywards
From an unmarked mound near the city gate
Behold, Sankara rising. . . .
(Concluded)