Nimbus clouds in the horizon cause me to panic.
Growing up in the heart of the tropics
Where storms would rush in and push down crops,
Screaming at our windows, banging with water,
Asking me to open and taste Noah's flood,
What comes after nimbus seems familiar to me.
The temperature drops, as the wind rises,
And the sky goes from the blue that smiles
On glistening leaves on grassy hills singing hope
To a grey gloom gathering pain to dump on us.
Expectant I rush to close the windows,
Take in the corn, the egusi, the clothes:
What can I do about imminent bad weather?
Nimbus clouds in the horizon caused me to panic.
Growing up in the heart of the trouble,
Where storms would rush in and burn down crops,
Screaming at our windows, banging with boots,
Asking me to open and taste my own blood,
What comes after greed seems familiar to me.
When peacemakers were sent to jail
To keep illegal funds alive for all,
I saw bullets raining down on innocent
Lives seeking justice, but seeing just this:
Death, fires, death, destruction, death.
What has been the darkest period in this?
24/10/2020? Or the baby in the bubbling oil?
Or the beheaded teacher, or the beheaded cop?
Or the razed villages, or Ngarbuh, or
Fake dialogue, or refusal to bring peace?
Nimbus clouds in the horizon caused me to panic.
Not anymore.
The rain pours from my eyes seeing dreams
Splattered in pools of blood on school floors.
"We will protect them!" Nobody did.
The teachers, the parents are incriminated
As grief seizes their hearts and constricts
To kill, and swallow.
But who cares? 7 dead, many living
Where the bullets can still take them out.
We focus on the dead, forgetting the living
Living in a hell that bullets can't end.
(c) nyonglema
Eis requiem aeternam Dei :
Victory, Jenifer, Princess, Telma, Rema, Syndi, ....
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