Obianuju Okeke

Rose petals littering, all over Some destroyed, some untouched All on the floor, without design, nor intention Strings on a guitar, meant for a melodious tune Strike one, I bleed. Strike two, I bleed again Drops of rain on our land Watering the abandoned dry land Watering the dead plants to give food Quenching the thirst of the blood-filled ones Pools of blood in locations close Stench of dry blood, controlling the air Heads of dead men and women Limbs, parts of dead men and women Sounds of emerging war Beating of the war drum Tooting of the war horn Each new day, bring a new mare Decapitated heads and broken limbs of children, Stacked over one another, like sacks of manure Skinless, boneless, faceless, across all ages Tombs of the dead, silent Silent, even as the land rumbles in disruption and chaos Planes of rage, whoosh of a sorrowful air Goosebumps on the skins of the living Dilated pupils, sagging skins, malnourished infants Sprouting weeds of a lost hope Germinating in our minds, sprouting to bitterness Looking to the sun for hope Yonder I see, tomorrow it will be If we do not claim our own. WRITTEN BY: UJU MARCEL-OKEKE