They come with bags of broken grain,
Soft promises like evening rain,
A gentle knock, a shining smile,
To buy our hunger for a while.
Rice in sacks, the measured bribe,
To purchase voice and choice and tribe,
A plate today, a pledge tomorrow,
A fleeting balm for deeper sorrow.
We trade our future for a bowl,
A steaming hush to fill the soul,
Yet when the final grains are gone,
We wake to find the night still on.
Roads still cracked, the clinic bare,
The school without a book or chair,
Yet every season, as before,
The same white grains upon the floor.
O children of the dusty street,
Whose dreams are small but hearts complete,
Our worth is more than wheat or rice,
Our vote is neither pawn nor price.
Let governance be daily bread,
Not crumbs of kindness cheaply spread,
Let justice flow like rivers wide,
With truth our compass, hope our guide.
And when they come with bags in hand,
Remember what we truly stand
To win or lose with simple choice:
We are a people, we are a voice.
So may our hunger turn to sight,
Our courage kindle into light,
Till every grain of rice we see
Reminds us: we were born to be free.
Ugwuagbo Emmanuel Chizoba is a Journalist and Writer based in Enugu.