A Chase

At one hot noon, in the month of Ramadan,
A huge crowd of men and women,
Young and old, in crude dresses,
Looked to the same direction
With fretful faces and grim eyes.
All of sudden they began to run,
As if they were partaking Marathon Race.
Then they stopped out of breath,
Their chests were heaving,
A pause ensued and again they began to run,
They stopped again out of breath
With heaving chests,
And drops of sweat dropping down.

As my van overtook the crowed I beheld,
They were the denizens of my country,
The voters of my dear land,
Being gamed in the hands of politicians,
They held red currency notes,
And chased a truck of flour.

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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