I hear the peals of thunder and they fill me with dread.
I am afraid… My bones quiver like an aspen leaf.
My strength escapes like a hardened thief.
For I fret not at the sound of coming rain.
Rather, I sense the coming pain.
When the clouds are made of smoke from the fires of man’s anger,
And the thunder
I hear is man pleading his case via the barrel of a sub-machine gun…
War, I fear is on the horizon!
I see bodies of warring men, finally united and peaceful in a heap of the dead.
Their ideals and reasons drowned in a sea of red.
The widows cries are mild,
But who will answer the repeated questions of the orphaned child?
Why? I see all this and I cry. No one listens to what I say
….and so i must pray
Against this inevitable day.
Written by: Abolarin Ademola
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.