Power Leaves Poem by Job Ombati

Power is sweet!
And the trappings fit.
Adoring crowds.
Thunderous clapping.
Many microphones.
Men frantically adjusting them.
What a feeling!

The grandeur,
Of powerful top-range vehicles.
Snaking convoys.
Mighty fumes,
Itch common nostrils.
Beholdable clouds of dust,
Sting the eyes of mere mortals.
Oh, the all-day admiration!

Then,
Power leaves!
The powerful cars leave.
Security is withdrawn.
The stadium is empty.
No crowds in the market place.
No elbowing.
No microphones.
No blinding flashes.
No clicking sounds.
But a reminder; here or there,
Of a mistake from the past.
A never-meant mean comment.

Then,
KRA chooses to remember,
A tax return not filed.
And
National Cohesion,
Some 'hate-speech' remark.