The locusts came, and I bore witness.
Floods and flame weren't far behind.
The bankers blessed the mud and ashes
and planted a cross shaped For Sale sign.
Gave us three days to roll.
Roll like stones.
The river was red, and I bore witness.
Rent was high all over town.
We were poor relations of poor relations
uprooted from the only ground
we'd ever known.
Where we belonged.
After forty years, I'm bearin' witness.
Pharaohs don't set no one free.
God sends the plagues wherever he sees fit.
But the locusts only feed
on the likes of you and me.
Skin and bone.
For Susie's prompt at Real Toads. Still a little rough, I think.