On these tombs I read the
stories of men who die
searching for what to eat
in a country where leaders
build an empty house by
telling us the tales of shoeless years

On these tombs I see portraits
painted with blood gushing
out of broken thighs;
I see mangled bodies
and hands searching for the
bones of their relatives


In this city I see how they
sweep truth and tow lies
into the rock where heads
assemble to break the bar
of justice

I see how they bomb schools
and how they fill the pages
of histories with names of our
dead children

and tonight a poet sings with
a flute drenched in the tears
of abducted female students in Borno.



  1. what is even more unsettling is the fact that before long, cobwebs begin to gather on today’s news and it is no longer considered significant. our government is asleep!


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