I awake to a news headline
25 people killed in fresh herdsmen attack.
I am not lying when I say
the youths are counting more bodies in the country
than money in their purses.
Yesterday, I prayed
that I shouldn’t be preyed on tomorrow.
My world is transfiguring into a chapel of tombstones.
No one knows who would join
the congregation next.
I pour my tongue into a burning chimney,
so my prayers would rise to Heaven.
Anytime I am set on fire. Like a body blessed with
melanoma, i fear walking under the sun lest another
shadow pulls a gun to my head or
a stray bullet
finds shelter beneath my skin.
When did we get to this point? where a school child
in Kagara or Kurama dissipates into air
& is soon discovered,
a price tag on the head & I am
not even certain that Baba would
return home from the farm today.
Photo by Muhammadtaha Ibrahim Ma’aji from Pexels
COMMENTS ( 9 ) -
Joel joseph February 01, 2022 16:59
nice one solo keep it up
Solomon Timothy Hamza November 28, 2021 23:01
Thank you guys for the warm comments. Thank you Brittle Paper
Gideon Emmanuel November 26, 2021 13:57
I'm glad to read this...it's scintillating
Meredith Chiwenkpe Asuru November 26, 2021 12:30
Hmm, the uncertainty!!
Olusoji Obebe November 26, 2021 09:26
This is beautiful, brother.♥️
Mahbubat Salahudeen November 26, 2021 04:53
Fascinating, the strength of its creativity cannot be overemphasized. It's a sort of poem you read over and over and not get bored.
Muiz Opeyemi Ajayi November 25, 2021 13:52
Enthralling poem!!! Stark & political! It's one of such poems you'll try quoting some lines and end up quoting the entire poem.
Solomon Timothy Hamza November 24, 2021 17:57
Thank you for perusing! Glad you enjoyed it
Olalekan Hussein November 24, 2021 00:51
You have beautiful work here!