Our souls riddled with bullets of sorrow,
We are tangled in webs of endless torments
As we offer tears upon this altar.
Dark, pregnant clouds float around
Bringing in deep darkness of mourning!
We weep; our faceless painted with grief,
Wrinkled and remolded by agony.
Syringes of pains stab our souls, injecting fear,
So we cloak our timid hearts with fervent prayers.
Chewing tears, we hug to console our souls:
We live a mockery of life, full of complaints.
We must guard our agony chapped hearts
For they hunt us with Sergeant Death.
He lurks in the shadows of our darkened hopes,
Desecrating our land with innocent blood!
Eat alone and deny us a share of the cake:
Our agony will rust your moments of stolen joy
Our ragged smiles will turn your wealth into dust,
And our sighs will flog you like heaven’s horsewhip!
We are the victims!
Victims of the whims of our own,
Slaved by the very hands we made strong;
But we are only homeless, not hopeless!
Written by: Moses Opara
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.