Selling ‘hell’ on earth
If we survive the rain
the sea will come
The land no longer has rights
to their manure:
naked harvest has widowed the soil
and kept crops at bay
Beyond the feet of men
tired earth unseat us
Our huts now settled on heaved ground
like a straddled plant:
panting the song of a doomed welcome
The trees are prostrate
shedding tears of their deflowered self
from the brute-force of the wild west wind
No ‘loner’ is innocence as free:
for how the yam peels
only the knife knows
I see nothing, but death and dying
after the sun has outshone our skins
and the tundra cooked us up
our bodies would become capital-goods for termites
And when the world swallowed us up,
we would walk secretly in our forefather’s grave
Written by: Justice Mmahi
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
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