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She came from the hills, eyewitnesses say,
A stick of a girl,
Unassuming, plain.
Clasping a sunken stillness around her shoulders
Walking limply towards the full crowd,
A hapless saint, certain to live out her journey.
That market day,
Soon all around her beamed with light and
A burst of spiritless bodies tossed in the air,
Spectators and the suffering stunned in mid-chaos of
Collapsed stalls, mangled parts and earth,
Spread crudely in blood and crushed fruit.
There was splitting screams, loud wailings and
The irreparable silence of a girl
Burnt to memory.
Later that day, the passive news reports
Full of muddled figures,
Bore little confirmation, conflating confusion and
The wretchedness of postmortem outrage.

 

 

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Post image is an adaptation of a photograph by Surian Soosay via Flickr.

About the Author:

Portrait - IsaHajo Isa is a poet, photographer and soap maker. She is the Author of two books of poems titled Shadow Fall and Dancing Tongues. Hajo Isa lives in Abuja. You can reach her on Twitter: @Aitadi