PEACE #peace #war #stopwar

The soft wind combed her silken hair,

She stood there

Looking at me; a mere mortal she saw

Looking at her shawl.

I saw the accursed bruises she bore

Like a slave at the oar;

Her silver skin striped in black and blue

(She wished I knew).

Her wilted lips losing their colour,

Cut; what horror!

Her clothes told not of misery, but of fights;

Even through long nights,

The clashing of metal. “Oh! Such is not woman’s mettle”,

Myself  I said to.

Then she uttered a ghastly echo, as if in strain:

“In vain

I’ve tried to cross, and have suffered like He on the cross”

I was so cross!

I stood wondering at the sight at Earth’s borders.

But worse yet are the plights of my earthly brothers

Who shunned this beauty. May Destiny forgive us.

(c) Nyonglema

Published by

nyonglema

I love to write to inspire, to salvage and to heal. I believe there's power in word and language that can cure all the ills which take away human love an life. Keep reading, you'll find yourself.

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