On Egypt, and Voting

A poem for yesterday, which I missed.

I’d planned on writing quite another poem,
When voting hadn’t finished, when the choice
Was two unknown alternatives, a voice
That sounded like Mubarak coming home,
Or one that rallied much of Egypt’s fears
Of harsh Sharia law, and lesser rights.
“The truth is that, when silent are the fights
And empty all the protests, and the jeers
At all the former leaders, then the vote
Is often but a choice between a dud
Or cluster, unexploded.  Any blood
Remaining in the people, for to coat
Another growing tyrant, be at ease.”
They’ve voted now; I hope the many pleas
For freedom bring the country from its knees.