Genocide is just a word

Happy celebration Cameroon

It all starts with the “genos” part:
   If there’s no race, it doesn’t exist
   So history gets braided into little kids’ hairs
   Till they remember only the victor’s tryst
   With death, in order to save our forebears
   For graves never wrote history. A cyst
   Of truth is hidden deep where the death of fear
   Meets the death of youth at the barrel to the sun.
   Lifafa is wiped with the shroud of Um
   Till “genos” is but a word in beach sand.
 

And with no “genos” there’s no “cide” :
   Self defence is the panacea of every atrocity
   Little children with gaping brains
   Young girls’ cocoons bitterly maimed
   Young boys disappear to be brutally tamed
   Humanity at the end of life gets hastened
   And propaganda is Elvis doing a pirouette
   On a 60s world stage where truth was left
   In the cold of the theatre’s steps.

 
So no “genos”, no “cide” and the UN higher-ups can tuck their kids in cosy blankets, with Winnie the Pooh splayed along the left creases, give a forehead kiss, walk to their own bed, sleep and prepare for another non-eventful day at work.

(c) nyonglema

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