To all the cruel shears
that trim vegetative parts
of beautiful flowers,
I have this to say to you:
Armed Desertification will match
towards your lush garden;
lick up the grin of your greenies,
strip your roses of their petals
and leave them stark naked
In the Hades of burning thorns,
that poked life out of a fragile flower
the day sky bled in bloody torrents
And the sun grieved the fall
of a bullet battered boy
The earth sobbed
as her heart with pain throbbed
For she was robbed and robed
in garments of sweet-scented grief
She could have sang a dirge
but her throat was sore from much wailing
and a clump of bloody mucus hung by her nostrils
When the screeching screams
Of her wounded flower
Threatens to deafen the earth
As the sorry soil soaked in
Bloody tears from a bereaved heart.
if inks were blood,
We would write the story
of a new life on the torn pages
of your broken book
For our pens perch painfully by this brook
of flowing sadness and we ask:
when!
Just when will justice catch crime, red-handed?
Ogwiji Ehi
#EBO