The farmers are back,

Like the soil that takes all beatings

And returns to feed us bounties.

Bandits with blessings

Made that bid they always make

To dishonour the burgeoning crop,

But the grain stood tall

In truth, brushing aside the

Venom from the sheath.

Word goes far and wide

That this is no ordinary tide

That the cunning dykes of a state

Gone rogue may withstand long.

This once the swell of the sea

May not subside without

The righting of the wrong.

Men of fickle faith,

Strangers to the soil,

Drink now of the draught

Of  courage that the women,

Young and old, and men

Of resolute mind and labour

Hold out against the dissembling

Droplets of state;

Put your weight behind the tide,

Let the waters that rise

Wash clean the spoils of office;

Let frightened surmise

Yield to the strenuous bliss

That sprouts from the soil and the sea,

Let a new heaven and a new earth

Come to be.

Nature’s guardians show us

What we have been unable to see.

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